The Boy Who Changed Everything
by UnintendedBliss
Summary: Forced into Galbatorix's grasp at the tender age of 13, will Eragon remember what side he's on? Can the elf in his dreams, Saphira and Brom hold him back from losing his virtue? As Alagaësia is thrown into a perilous war, and Eragon's two worlds clash, could he hurt those he loves? Could he hurt his new found friend and brother, Murtagh? RxK, some Ery/Ary fluff later on...
1. Prologue

**Hello everyone! Here I go with another big story.**

**Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Inheritance cycle.**

**(Please note:) This story starts much like CP's Eragon, though I have added some very key different parts and changes. After about chapter 6, the plot becomes very different, so please, give it a chance! Thank you! **

**Prologue**

Enthusiastic laughter of what sounded to be two boys filled the evening air of the small village, Carvahall. They had gone to visit the small village after begging Roran's father and Eragon's uncle, Garrow. People getting on with daily chores paused, smiling gently when they saw the two cousins race past along the dirt path. The first one was Eragon, a handsome boy with quite a matured face for only thirteen years of age. Trailing behind him was his fifteen year old cousin, Roran, who was always thought of as a brother in Eragon's eyes.

"Where are you two going?" a girl with copper hair and brown eyes called out as they raced passed her. A tiny hint of a blush touched Roran's cheeks, and he didn't dare to look back at Katrina.

"Out!" Eragon called back to her, whipping his head back briefly to raise his eyebrows at a red-faced Roran. They both heard Katrina's humble laugh behind them. Roran's eyes narrowed playfully, and his pace picked up, his hand flashing towards Eragon's torso. Eragon squealed in surprise as he felt a strong arm seize his thin waist, and then they were tumbling in a big heap towards the hard ground. There was a loud thud as Eragon took the blow, Roran getting the soft landing on top of him.

Eragon moaned, lifting a shaking finger into the air. "Trying to impress your girl—" The rest of his sentence was incoherent thanks to Roran, who had quick reflexes and took the liberty to cover Eragon's mouth.

"Shut up," Roran hissed, glancing back at Katrina, who was approaching them and rolling her eyes. Roran got to his feet quickly, standing tall in front of his crush. His expression was somewhere between dazed and embarrassed. Eragon glared up at him, pushing his foot into Roran's calf, tripping him over. Unfortunately for Eragon, Roran fell backwards onto him again. Fortunately, he got the satisfaction of amusement at Katrina's expression. That was only after he pushed Roran off his aching body.

Roran turned to Eragon, his eyes wide in shock. His expression softened as soon as Katrina's laugh entered his ears, and he chuckled in embarrassment. Eragon's eyebrows raised a notch, and he looked back and forth between Roran and Katrina, distaste in his eyes.

"Can you not?" he snapped, slowly getting to his feet. He wiped his pants, dust flying off the dark material. He was too busy mumbling to himself in anger when he heard Katrina giggle. He paused and looked up to see Roran standing beside her, their expressions mocking. They both had their hands crossed over their chests.

"Eragon, there are many things you do that annoy me. I don't tell you to stop," Katrina said, her voice amused.

Eragon rolled his eyes, crossing his arms over his chest without realising it. He looked down at them slowly, and felt an extreme urge to run away and hide behind a tree.

Roran chuckled. "Oh, Eragon," was all he said.

Eragon made a sound of exasperation, flinging his hands in the air. He spun around, storming off towards the Spine.

Roran sighed. "Eragon, I was kidding," he called. Eragon didn't stop or turn around, but started running towards the forest.

"Don't let him go alone, Roran!" Katrina insisted, pushing him forward. Roran ran after Eragon without a second thought, not bothering to look back at Katrina.

He easily caught up to Eragon and grasped his shoulder. Eragon tried to pull free, but Roran was stronger than him. Roran spun him around, keeping his hands securely wrapped around Eragon's forearms. Eragon refused to meet his eyes.

"Hey… come on, Eragon, I was kidding… Katrina is like a sister to you. Don't be embarrassed."

Eragon's brown eyes widened dramatically and slowly drifted to Roran's. "You mean… my sister and my brother… love each other?" he asked, smirking at Roran's alarmed expression. "That is really gross."

"Eragon, stop it!" Roran exclaimed, pulling the shorter boy with him back towards the path. "She's not my sister!"

Eragon let his cousin drag him along, but not without adding a snide, "Why don't you stop trying to date your sister?"

* * *

**Now, with updates, I'm not sure how quick they'll be. It isn't the holidays so school is keeping me busy. I'll try to update as fast as I can. :)**

**Thanks for reading! Please, tell me what you thought about it.**


	2. The Sapphire Egg

**A/N: Thanks for the wonderful reviews everyone. I really appreciate your feedback.**

**Chapter One: The Sapphire Egg**

Eragon stood by the door of his uncle's house, practically bouncing on his feet in excitement, a sack swung over his right shoulder. Beside him stood Roran, a bow grasped tightly in his hand, and a quiver filled with arrows strapped to his back. Garrow stood before Eragon and Roran, his lean face stern. He had always seemed depressed ever since his wife, Marian, had died. He was as pale as a ghost. His penetrating eyes searched both of the boys' faces.

"Don't be reckless," Garrow said firmly, warning in his voice. "Don't go too far into the Spine. It's a dangerous place."

Although Eragon and Roran had fun at times, they both knew that they were poor, desperate for food, although Eragon seemed to not grasp the seriousness of it sometimes. Eragon had always looked up to Roran for guidance, and Roran was very protective over his thirteen year-old cousin. Curiosity had always been a strong trait of Eragon's, and he had started questioning Roran many times about his real parents at the age of ten, but Roran had never have much to tell. The only information he had gleaned from his father was that Eragon's mother was named Selena.

The two boys nodded in synchronisation, Eragon trying his hardest not to grin. The forest held many wonders, and Eragon loved to get away from the solemn atmosphere floating around the small farm in which he lived.

"We won't, father," Roran promised, his voice sincere.

. . .

Everything had happened so suddenly that Arya had not had time to comprehend that she was being chased. The loud crackling of fire, and the raging cries of malicious Urgals filled the forest, tormenting her sensitive ears. Her whole body was a blur of colour as she raced along the grass, her rich midnight hair whipping in the wind. Trailing directly behind her was her last surviving elf companion, Amira. The deaths of Fäolin and Glenwing weighed heavy on the elves' hearts. Even so, they raced to protect the dragon egg hidden in the pouch that Arya held.

"There is no escape!" the deep voice cried from behind them, his crazed voice hungry. Explosions of fire erupted mere feet away from Arya and Amira, their lithe bodies barely evading the bright, scorching flames.

They both knew that they couldn't keep running. Something had to be done. Arya nearly faltered as she felt a force touch the barriers of her mind, but lowered them as soon as she realised it was Amira's familiar presence.

_Run far away, Arya! _Amira thought desperately. _I shall hold them back long enough!_

Indecision clawed at Arya's mind. She glanced hurriedly back at her companion. Amira's eyes pleaded with her, begged her to listen. Behind Amira, she could see the Urgals had nearly caught up to them, their weapons held high in the air. Ravenous sounds left their throats, and their expressions held no mercy. The man led the pack of them, his lips pulled into a fierce snarl. Their eyes met for a brief second, and his expression twisted into pure rage as he saw the determination in Arya's emerald eyes. It was obvious that he was no human.

"Watch out!" Amira's panicked voice shrieked over the ear-splitting noise. Arya tore her eyes away from Durza, turning around to find a tree trunk rushing to meet her. It was too late to avoid it. She collided with the hard trunk, snatching the pouch away from her chest before it could be crushed. A moan escaped her lips as she sank to the ground. She leaned over the pouch, slipping the sapphire egg into her free hand, hearing Amira unsheathe her sword above her.

The man's menacing laugh filled her ears. "It's over! We have won!" he cried in triumph. The Urgals erupted into noise, their expressions aggressive.

Arya spoke softly but desperately to the egg, cradling it to her chest. The man suddenly cried out as he realised what Arya was trying to do.

"Garjzla!"

Amira dropped her sword and leapt towards Arya, pushing her down as the bright light passed over them, a hair's breadth from Amira's back, and in the same instant the forest was filled with a bright flash as the egg blinked out of sight.

"No, no, no!" the man screamed at the top of his lungs, flinging his sword into the closest Urgal's chest. The creature let out a shocked gasp as the sword was ripped from his chest again, collapsing to the ground. And then the rest of the Urgals dived at the two elves.

Arya heard faint sounds of cries around her, and was aware of someone's arms wrapped tightly around her. "Deyja!" she heard a familiar voice cry desperately.

And then everything went black.

Amira kicked at the Urgals, yelling one of the twelve words of death over and over, the spell taking as much energy as if she had lifted a link-laden pen. The creatures fell to the forest ground, one by one. She was just about to kick another attacking Urgal away, when a sword cleaved the poor creature into two from behind. Amira tightened her grip on Arya's torso, glancing at her quickly, only to see that she was unconscious.

"Stop!" the furious voice shrieked over the noise.

Amira gasped as she heard sword slash through skin. The man appeared in place of the fallen Urgal, his maroon eyes glowering down at her. The Urgals paused, and not a second later, were decapitated by their leader's swinging sword. Amira's head swung around as she searched for an escape. Her eyes widened as she realised that a ring of fire surrounded the section of forest.

They were trapped.

There was _no _escape.

"Elf," Durza suddenly said darkly, his voice menacingly low. "You made a great mistake."

Amira's head shot back to the strange man. She knew he wasn't human. He was a tall man, with a bony, pale face, and long crimson hair cascading down his back. He was a slight build, but seemed stronger than any mortal. Something in his eyes made Amira cringe in fright. He seemed so ancient, intense emotions crawling beneath his taunting eyes.

"Who are you?" Amira whispered in shock.

"Our name is Durza." He lifted his hand towards Amira, his sharp teeth pulling into a sinister smile.

"We shall make you will wish that you were never born!"

. . .

"Over there," Eragon whispered into Roran's ear, pointing towards a pack of deer grazing in the small clearing. They were hidden behind a bush, watching the animals intently. The sky was overcast, cold wind blowing their hair around. Eragon—very grudgingly—had agreed to let Roran use the bow and arrow ... _again._

Every time they went hunting for game, Roran always insisted that he catch the animal because he was more _experienced._

In fact, Eragon was very accurate with the bow and arrow. All he needed to do was to put more strength into it. Roran had always been the stronger one. Eragon envied his cousin's strong build, envied his muscly arms and chest_. _Eragon was a much slighter build. He was still strong, but usually relied on Roran when it came to strength.

Roran nodded, slowly reaching over his shoulder to get an arrow, which he then slid into place on the bow and aimed.

_Steady…_

"You're off target," Eragon pointed out, his smug voice hushed.

Roran's eyes slowly drifted to Eragon. Eragon smiled innocently, his eyes wide.

"Thanks for that," Roran whispered sarcastically, his eyes narrowed. Sometimes, Roran wondered if Eragon realised how dire their situation was.

"Um… no problem," Eragon replied, trying his hardest not to smirk at Roran's irritated expression.

The fifteen year-old decided to ignore Eragon. His eyes focused solely on the doe he was going to shoot.

He let it fly. The bow whizzed towards the doe, striking it directly in the chest. It squealed in pain, but the sound was masked as a small explosion of light filled the clearing. Eragon and Roran flinched in surprise, their heads shooting towards where it had originated from. White mist surrounded the area. The small body of the doe was a heap on the ground, dead, a few metres away from the site.

"What is that?" Roran muttered in disbelief. They both stared, dumbstruck, until Eragon's curiosity became too much for him to ignore. He slowly rose from behind the bush. Roran automatically followed suite, used to Eragon's tendency to explore things and places. He grasped Eragon's forearm as they approached what looked like an expensive stone.

"Careful, Eragon."

Eragon was too focused on the sapphire object to look back at his cousin. He stopped when they reached it, slowly reaching out to skim his fingers across its warm outside. It was smooth, unbelievably so. Thin, white veins webbed across the surface. He felt drawn to it. His stomach filled with nervousness. Roran frowned, his hand tightening on Eragon's left forearm.

"Eragon, leave it," Roran blurted, eyeing it sceptically.

"But we can't," Eragon argued, snatching his hand back and kneeling in front of it. He picked it up carefully, much like a mother with her newborn, and ran his fingers across the surface again. It was almost as if Roran was expecting something bad to happen. Nothing did. Eragon's brown eyes sparkled with wonder and excitement.

"It's so beautiful," he murmured softly, leaning in to inspect it even closer. It was almost as if the strange object wanted him too, like an invisible force flowed between them.

Roran slowly kneeled down next to Eragon, hesitantly reaching in to touch it. "… This has to be worth a lot of money," he commented.

Eragon's eyes widened in alarm, and he instinctively brought the the object to his chest. Roran gave him a puzzled look. "But…" Eragon's weak tone faded off.

Roran sighed, looking into Eragon's eyes. "We _need _money, not a… whatever that is."

"It has to be an stone of some kind," Eragon observed.

"... An expensive stone too," Roran replied, and then his voice became pleading. "Come on, Eragon… listen to me."

Eragon slowly met his cousin's eyes. He frowned, a queasy feeling in his stomach. For some reason, he felt like selling it would be a mistake, but he didn't know why. He slowly nodded after a while of thought.

"… Okay," he said half-heartedly.

Roran sighed in relief, standing up. He held his hand out to Eragon, who handed him the sack slowly, his eyes never leaving the stone cradled to his chest.

"Let's go." It was only around midday, although it was hard to tell because of the overcast sky. Roran walked up to the small doe, putting the animal into the sack and then swinging it over his shoulder. He turned around, waving to Eragon. Eragon slowly stood from the scorched grass, making sure to handle the stone carefully.

* * *

**So how was it? Thanks for reading!**


	3. Memories

**A/N: Chapter one has been slightly updated. I cleared some mistakes, like Eragon and Roran thinking it was an egg at the start. There won't be any other official couples other than RxK. Thank you for taking the time to read this story. I really appreciate it. Tips to help me with writing are always welcome. Thank you. **

**Chapter Two: Memories**

The loud, heavy rain sounded in Amira's ears. The fresh smell of it filled her nostrils. She was about to open her eyes when she suddenly realised that she was wedged between two bodies, her head leaned against someone's back. Her whole body throbbed almost unbearably, as if a thousand bees had stung every inch of it. When Durza had burned Amira with "_Garjzla"_, she had temporally been rendered unconscious. She knew that it would be unwise of her to make Durza aware of her state. He would only burn her again if she tried to attack. She briefly wondered if Arya was awake too.

"Senseless elves," she heard Durza's deep voice mutter. "They will pay."

Amira needed to escape, even if it was the last thing she attempted to do. Her right eye cracked open. She saw the rich colours of the forest slowly drifting by. The tall trunks of the trees extended high into the sky, creating a shield from the pouring rain, although some small drops evaded the leaves of the trees, falling to the damp forest ground.

She suddenly heard a cold chuckle. "Slytha," the shade murmured darkly. _Sleep. _The bone-chilling surprise barely had time to register in the elf's muddled thoughts before she was completely encompassed into darkness.

. . .

Eragon and Roran eventually returned to Carvahall, tired and hungry. It was dark, the only light being the small lanterns littered around the houses of the village. The two boys slowly advanced through the village, their boots producing grinding sounds as they walked over the road. Eragon's eyes had barely left the mysterious stone for the whole trip, except for when they had stopped earlier to briefly to have a snack of cheese and stale bread. The chilling wind caressed his slightly angled face, blowing brown strands of hair across it.

"Eragon, why are you acting like this?" Roran's irked voice demanded from beside him. They turned off the road, the path leading them through waist-high grass and then up the small hill towards the house.

Eragon blinked in surprise, glancing up at his older cousin. Roran had been oddly mute during the long walk.

"… Like what?" Eragon asked hesitantly.

"You haven't taken your eyes off that stone. You know we're not keeping it." Roran's expression was stern.

Eragon's eyes drifted to the dry grass. "… I know," he replied quietly. "It's just…" He paused, thinking the better of trying to explain to his cousin, who seemed very sceptical of him. "I think it looks cool, that's all," he mumbled weakly.

Roran lips pulled into a grin, his right eyebrow rising slightly. "I think a chicken could have told you were lying."

Eragon snorted, giving Roran a look. "Chickens don't think that deeply, not to mention they can't speak."

The fifteen year-old rolled his eyes. "I apologise, smarty-pants, for my _stupid_ comment."

Eragon's eyes narrowed playfully, and he stuck his tongue out at Roran. Roran laughed, nudging the shorter boy in the arm. Eragon's arms instinctively tightened around the sapphire stone, but Roran didn't notice because his attention drifted to the house they were approaching. Next to it stood a small stable, where their two horses, Burka and Brugh, resided with a few chickens and a cow. Beside the stable was a wagon. They stepped quietly onto the front porch, Roran knocking on the front door gently.

A light flashed through the window and the door swung inward to reveal Garrow standing there, his hungry eyes dashing straight to the stone in Eragon's hands. He glanced around before ushering them inside. "Come in, come in," he said hurriedly. The boys walked into the warm house, Eragon feeling somewhat saddened that they hadn't stayed in the Spine longer. A lantern flickered on the table. Cooking utensils were nailed to the wall near the woodstove. Roran swung the sack from over his shoulder onto the small wooden table, turning to his father, who was standing in front of Eragon, his eyes fixed on the stone.

"What is that? Where did you find it?" he questioned sceptically, reaching out to take it from Eragon. Eragon watched as his uncle inspected the stone closely, running his fingers over the smooth surface.

"We think it's a stone," Roran answered for Eragon, who looked a bit dazed. "We found it in a clearing."

After a moment of examining the stone, Garrow nodded, handing it back to Eragon, the boy taking it eagerly. "Okay, keep it. When the traders come, we'll see how much it's worth." Eragon nodded slowly, watching the stone again, his eyes intrigued. Garrow walked up to the table, watching Roran as he pulled the doe out of the sack. He smiled proudly, patting his son on the back.

"Good," he said. Roran smiled at his father, pleased at his proud expression.

Eragon bid them goodnight, before stumbling to his room. He slipped the stone carefully under his bed before collapsing onto the mattress. He sighed deeply, his tense muscles relaxing. He rolled onto his stomach, burying his face into the crook of his slightly bent elbow, and fell into sleep's warm embrace.

. . .

When dawn arrived, the sun's rays gushed through the window of Eragon's room, warming his exposed skin. Moaning softly, he forced his eyes open. He wanted to stay where he was, warm and comfortable, but he knew such pleasures weren't really part of his life. He stretched out on the mattress, yawning as he did so. The events of the previous day suddenly flooded back to him, and he leaned over the side of his bed, his inquisitive eyes lighting up when he saw the beautiful sapphire stone. He reached out to feel its smooth surface with the tips of his fingers.

His warm smile faltered when he remembered something. Fourteen years ago, at around this time, his mother had come to Carvahall, pregnant with him. He desperately wished that he could find out more, but Garrow refused to tell him.

"_I will tell you when you're older," _he would say every time Eragon questioned him, which wasn't very often because he knew it upset his uncle.

_It's not fair. She's my mother, I deserve to know. _

And then another thing nagged him: Who was his father? Not one thing had ever been said about him. Eragon didn't even have the slightest clue as to what his name was.

Eragon knew that Marian would have told him if she could have, before she died. He blinked, feeling his eyes grow wet. His uncle was quite a grumpy man, and Eragon understood why. Eragon had only briefly known Marian, but she had been just like a mother to him, always taking care of him and treating him the same way that she treated Roran. He remembered when she would sit on the porch with him, telling him stories that made him laugh and vice versa. He remembered the warm feeling of her gentle embrace. When either he or Roran had been sad, she would always be there. Her death had been very difficult for everyone to cope with, and it was scarcely discussed. Sometimes, Eragon felt as if the revelation had torn the once close group apart.

"_And then do you know what happened?" _

_Marian shook her head, smiling softly at eight-year old Eragon, whose head rested in her lap. "What happened, dear?" she asked, moving a strand of brown hair from his forehead. _

_Eragon's brown eyes sparkled with excitement. "The monster ate him!" Her humble laugh filled his ears, and Eragon grinned, proud of himself. _

"_What a scary story," Marian whispered, pretending to be scared. She leaned in, nuzzling her nose into Eragon's, making him giggle. _

"_I love you, mum."_

_Marian's eyes flashed with an emotion before she hid it, wrapping her arms around Eragon tightly. _

"_I love you too… Always, my angel," she murmured._

A small cry left Eragon's mouth, bringing him back from his memories. He didn't know how they could still be so vivid in his mind, as if they had happened the previous day instead of five years ago. His hand flew to his eyes, wiping away the salty tears. He curled up into a ball, letting his emotions rack his body for a good five minutes before he gained control over them. He sat up hurriedly, eager to get away from his thoughts. The floorboards were cold. He pulled his boots on, ignoring the sick feeling in his stomach.

He cautiously placed the stone onto the shelf before hurrying out of his room.

. . .

"How did you sleep?" Roran asked Eragon, his eyes soft.

They were sitting at the table, eating a breakfast of cold meat. Roran could easily tell Eragon had been crying, although it would be almost impossible for someone else to guess. He knew the look in his younger cousin's eyes: He was thinking about his mother.

Eagon sighed quietly, hanging his head. "… Wasn't I good enough?" he whispered, feeling his stomach tense.

Roran placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "It wasn't that you weren't good enough. I _know_ that."

"How do you know, Roran?" Eragon demanded helplessly.

Roran tilted his head so that he was in Eragon's view. His eyes were serious. "Bec—"

Garrow walked in, interrupting them. Eragon quickly rubbed his face, looking up at his uncle. Roran sat back in his chair.

"We need to finish the harvest," was all he said.

Eragon couldn't help but feel amused at his uncle. Garrow did care; he just had a funny way of showing it.

After breakfast, the three of them got to work in the fields. It was still freezing, and the sun offered little comfort. They stored the last of the barely into the barn, and then gathered the various vegetables, which they then packed into the root cellar. After the long hours of painstaking work, they stretched, relieved that the harvest was finished. The following days consisted of preparing the food for winter. They waited for days. The weather had taken the turn for the worst, snow decorating the land like cream, and Garrow finally announced that they were going to have to leave for town if the weather didn't improve soon.

Eragon sneaked out of the house one freezing morning, looking for tracks with hopelessness, when he came across just that. And then he was racing home, a bright smile upon his lips.

* * *

**Action will be coming soon, but I don't intend to rush the story. Thanks for reading!**


	4. Carvahall

**So yeah, this chapter is very similar to in the book, except I added some parts in. You can skip it if you don't want to read it (someone Eragon meets in this chapter is explained later anyway.) Thanks.**

**Chapter Three: Carvahall**

They packed the wagon with supplies as the sun rose. Cold wind blew gently across the farm. Snow drifts clung to the ground in big heaps. Roran harnessed the horses to the wagon, while Garrow carefully tucked a year's worth of money into a black pouch secured to his belt. Eragon ran to his room to collect the sapphire stone. He paused when he saw it upon his shelf, eyeing it almost regretfully.

_Do we have to sell it? _

He knew that he was being childish to think that having a nice stone was more important than having money. He shook his head to clear it, reaching out with two hands to grasp the stone. It was as smooth as ever. His fingers explored its surface again, his brown eyes widening in interest. He didn't know why the object intrigued him so much.

_Who left this in the spine? Why did they do it in the first place? It must have been someone who had the gift of magic, but who? They could have easily retrieved the stone if they had the power to transport it... Was I mean to find it? _

"Eragon, hurry up! We don't have all day!" Roran yelled from outside.

Eragon flinched in surprise, glancing out of his window to see the wagon packed and ready. He rushed back outside, climbing onto the wagon beside Garrow and Roran. They both gave him enquiring looks, but he ignored them, placing the stone among other grains to keep it from rolling away.

. . .

They arrived at Carvahall by early afternoon. The town bustled with activity. Tents and wagons littered the fields. Horses whinnied and snorted as they rode past. Strong smells of pastries wafted through the area. People walked around, talking animatedly. Eragon watched them as they passed. He liked being around the main part of town, liked the friendly atmosphere that drifted over the area.

Garrow parked the wagon, then Roran and Eragon secured the horses to a nearby tree. Eragon patted Brugh's raven coat. The horse leaned into him, snorting happily. Eragon grinned, running his fingers through the animal's tough mane. Garrow approached them, picking some coins out of the leather pouch. Eragon and Roran shared an eager glance.

"Use it wisely, Roran," he said, handing the excited fifteen year-old some coins. "Eragon, come with me first, with the stone." Garrow handed him some coins too, which he pocketed happily. Roran smiled, sprinting off. Eragon smirked as he went to collect the stone, knowing exactly where Roran was going, or rather _who _he was going to see. He tucked it into his bag and walked with his uncle through the crowds of people, studying everything curiously. Young children raced around, shrieking in joy.

Garrow lead his nephew to a booth. Scattered on the table where items such as jewellery and other trinkets. A man stood behind it, watching the curious woman, hopping for something on the table to catch their attention. Garrow walked straight up to the salesman, Eragon following hesitantly. He watched as Garrow introduced himself, curious.

The saleman smiled. "Merlock is my name. What can I do for you? Perhaps you would like to buy something?" he said, a persuasive tone in his voice. His hand motioned to the table.

"We're looking to sell," Garrow said firmly, his expression neutral. Eragon watched as Merlock's expression sobered, and his eyes glinted with curiosity.

"And where is this object of interest?" The trader's eyes drifted to Eragon's bag, which he was holding to his chest. Eragon looked to his uncle uncomfortably.

"We would rather show you in private," said Garrow, his voice quiet.

Merlock paused before nodding. "Certainly," he said. He motioned for them to follow, and walked towards the abundance of tents. They slipped through the throngs of people, until they came to a crimson tent. Merlock ushered them in.

Inside the tent were some wooden stumps as chairs, with an odd, round bed and some other small pieces of Jewellery. Merlock motioned for them to sit. Eragon and Garrow settled on the stumps. Eragon carefully pulled the stone out of his bag. Merlock blinked in surprise, automatically leaning forward on his seat. He hesitantly reached out, almost sub-consciously ignoring Eragon.

Eragon slowly handed it to the trader, who took it eagerly. He studied it closely, his hand reaching down beside him to his toolbox. He picked out a small wooden mallet. Eragon's eyes widened in alarm as Merlock tapped the blue stone gently. A subtle note filled the tent. Eragon and Garrow shared a glance. Merlock then measured and studied the stone.

He finally looked up, reaching up to stroke his goatee with his left hand, while he held the stone in his right. "Where did you find this?" he asked sceptically.

Eragon shifted uneasily. "In the Spine," he answered. Merlock's eyes widened.

"Do you know how much it's worth?" Garrow asked.

"I doubt much around here would but it... I'm not sure how to answer your question. I doubt anything would, even if you struck it with a hammer."

Garrow leaned forward. "You won't buy it?" he guessed.

The trader immediately shook his head. "I can't take the chance."

Garrow nodded curtly. Eragon couldn't help but ask, "Why would something like this"—he motioned to the stone—"be left in the Spine?"

"Strange things have been happening in those mountains," Merlock muttered.

"What do you mean?" Eragon blurted out of curiosity.

"Our recent travels... Well, let's just say something big is happening in Alagaësia. The Varden have become fiercer. Urgals have been spotted in populated areas. Apparently a shade has been reported, but no one knows for sure if the rumour is true."

"How come we didn't know about this?" Eragon demanded.

"It has only been happening for a few months."

Garrow didn't look convinced. "That's crazy."

Merlock sighed. "Many strange occurrences have been taking place in the Spine lately, and this stone is a suitable example of that fact." The trader handed the stone back to a startled Eragon, who tucked it hastily into his bag. With that, Eragon and Garrow left the tent wearily, mulling over the knowledge that they had just gained.

"What should we do with it? Eragon asked, looking up at his uncle.

"I'll think about it," Garrow replied. "Go, spend you coins, and don't be late for dinner."

Eragon nodded quickly, running back to the wagon to put the stone back. He happily bought himself a hot pie, and then went back to the wagon, sitting against the tree by the horses. His worries were briefly forgotten as he devoured the pie. He then wandered through the crowds of people, searching for his cousin.

He walked straight into Cyra. She was a girl he had met at the age of ten. She was the same age as him, with light blonde hair and dark brown eyes. They had talked a few times when Eragon came to Carvahall. She usually kept to herself, and all the boys insisted that she _liked _Eragon, because he was the only boy she talked to in town. Eragon felt a smile grace his lips. He felt a sense of deja vu. He remembered when they were eleven, when they were best friends.

_"Cyra," he greeted kindly._

_"Eragon." She smiled shyly back at him, grabbing his hand and pulling him from the throng. When they were free of the crowd, Cyra released his hand, saying, "You've grown."_

_Eragon rolled his eyes. "Roran gives me enough of that," he grumbled._

_Cyra laughed. "What do you mean? Don't all boys want to grow?" She lifted her arm, tensing it. "Don't you want to be a tough man?" she asked jokingly._

_Eragon coloured as he averted his eyes. "No," he muttered._

_Cyra wrapped an arm around his shoulders, squishing his cheek with her left hand. "Come on, Ery, cheer up," she encouraged._

_Eragon was pleasantly surprised at her bright demeanor. He chuckled, playfully nudging her away. "What's got you so bright?"_

_Cyra's cheeks turned a light rose. "I... I'ts nice to see you, that's all," she admitted. They were walking alongside a small stream on the outskirts of town._

_Eragon blinked, an embarrassed snort leaving him. "Oh?" He smoothed his hair back, exaggerating his movements as he raised his eyebrows. "I know, I'm just so amazing," he bragged sarcastically. "If there were more people like me, the world would be a better place."_

_"Yeah," Cyra agreed, playing along. "I guess amazing people like you are too good for land."_

_Eragon only realised her intentions when it was too late. He squealed as Cyra pushed him into the stream. There was a loud splash as he fell in. Freezing water encompassed him. As his boots hit the bed of the stream, he stood, drenched. "Cyra, it's too cold to be pushing me into streams." Before him she stood, smirking proudly. Eragon's boots were filled with water, making it next to impossible to walk. "Cyra," he pleaded, "help." Eragon pouted, his hazel eyes innocent. Cyra's expression softened, and she reached out, grasping his hand. Her eyes widened as Eragon's eyes glinted playfully, before he pulled her in. There was another loud splash as she fell in beside him. Eragon threw back his head and laughed. "Are you stupid?"_

_Cyra groaned. "Well, now we freeze to death," she muttered._

_Eragon wrapped an arm around her hesitantly. There was a brief moment of sneering between them. "Your fault," Eragon chuckled._

_Eragon released her, removing his boots hurriedly. The sun was close to the horizon. He dragged himself out of the stream, and then helped Cyra out. They huddled together for warmth as they walked back into town, getting amused looks from people, and disapproving looks from mothers._

_Cyra's mother, Cassia, gasped when she saw them, drenched to the bone. "What were you thinking?" she exclaimed. She ushered them into a tent, wrapping them in warm towels. Eragon felt embarrassed as she combed his hair back, asking him if he was warm enough. Cassia was an extremely kind woman, and treated every child as her own. She seemed to like Eragon, and always looked after him like he was her own. Eragon guessed it was because she had known Marian._

_"Now, go get changed into something dry, dear," she ordered._

_Before Eragon left, he said to Cyra, "I have to find Roran... I'll see you later." Cyra nodded, waving him goodbye._

The fact that they didn't see each other often, and specifically their age, made them reserved around each other. They hadn't talked for at least a year. He waved gently. "Hey," he murmured kindly.

"Hey, Eragon." Cyra smiled back, patting his shoulder before slipping past him.

Eragon couldn't help but miss having her presence. He pushed the feeling away.

He found Roran quickly enough, and nearly gagged when he saw him embracing Katrina in an alley. He paused, clearing his throat, while trying not to grin. Katrina and Roran broke apart immediately, their startled expressions somewhat relaxing when they realised it was only Eragon. Karina smiled shyly at Roran and murmured something before darting off. Eragon approached Roran, his stride cocky, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. Roran growled playfully, grabbing Eragon into a headlock and ruffling his hair. Eragon laughed, pulling away.

"So, are you having a good time, Roran?" he asked genuinely.

"Yeah," Roran replied, seeming just a tad dazed. "Did you find out how much the stone was worth?"

Eragon explained what had happened as they walked to Morn's tavern. Roran seemed startled by it all, but didn't comment. Inside, the tavern was bustling with people. It was muggy, and smoke drifted around the small bar. Mounted over the door hung two black Urgal horns, shining as the tallow candles beamed on them. A stack of staves for customers to carve resided at one end of the long, low-ceiling tavern. Morn was behind the counter, wiping it clean. He glanced up and smiled when he saw them.

"Eragon! Roran!" he exclaimed. "It's great to see you!"

"Hey Morn," Roran said kindly. Eragon waved, smiling, but his attention was drawn to two traders, who were talking boisterously. A crowd of villagers were sitting around them, listening intently. Roran pulled his cousin with him to Morn. The bottom half of his face was squashed, as if it had been grinded by something.

"How have you two been?" Morn asked. "Where's Garrow?"

"Good," Roran replied, smiling. "He's out, buying. He'll be a while."

"I see," Morn replied.

"Who are they?" Eragon asked interestedly, motioning to the two men with his eyes.

"Grain buyers," Morn muttered, rolling his eyes. "They've been filling everyone's heads with silly stories for the last half hour."

The first trader was a big man, his large behind causing the wooden chair to creak in protest every time he shifted. "You should respect the king. He is the only reason you are alive right now," he said. The second guy—an unnaturally thin man with an abundance of strange rings on his fingers—nodded.

The thin trader held up his hand. "You are mistaken. You cannot expect him to be able to mind every single one of us. He has done well to keep the Urgals away, and here you are, complaining!"

"Right!" a woman called out sarcastically. "Like Galbatorix would care if we were burned to smithereens!"

Eragon and Roran shared a glance, their faces twisted in disgust. The thin man continued. "You are angry at the Empire because you believe they treat people unfairly, but they cannot please everybody. Of course there are a small amount of people who disagree, but most of us understand."

"What about the Varden?" yelled a man with a hairy face. The villagers nodded, their heads held high.

"The Varden have no intention of helping you. It is merely a rumour. All they want to do is take power over us so that they can claim our land. Who knows who they have working for them? They are trying to convince people that the Empire is the problem—not them—which is ridicules."

Eragon opened his mouth to argue, but Roran covered it quickly, shaking his head. Eragon frowned at his cousin, who bid Morn farewell, and then ushered him out the door. Eragon only realised how loud it had been in the tavern once they walked outside again.

"There's no point arguing with people like that, Eragon," Roran chastised.

"But—"

"I know they're twisting the truth. Let them. You're too young to be challenging men, especially the big one." Roran grinned.

Eragon couldn't help but chuckle. "Yes, he could do some _real_ damage with that... backside of his."

Roran laughed, nudging Eragon in the side. "We better go to Horst's, and then we'll go and listen to the storytellers."

Eragon grinned, his stride quickening. He loved to hear the stories that they told, especially when they were about dragon riders. Brom, one of the storytellers and a friend of Eragon's, told stories of them, but he had never told very much; it was a rare occurrence.

"Okay, slow down, Eragon. You have to eat first," Roran said humorously.

Eragon grumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes. "Isn't Katrina going to be there? Is that why you're not _enthusiastic_?"

If only Eragon had known how much he was going to be tickled for that comment.

* * *

**Hope you enjoyed! Thanks to all my reviewers, you rock!**


	5. The Tale of The Dragon Riders

**A/N: Amira's not going to be some perfect, amazing elf (Mary-Sues *Shudders*) I'm so sorry for the delay, School has just been keeping me really busy. I hope you like this chapter. :)**

**Chapter Four: The Tale of The Dragon Riders**

The faint mound of buildings that were part of Gil'ead crept slowly into sight as the bay horse trudged across the dirt path. The city was protected from all sides, with its towering buildings and strong gates creating a border around the houses within. The Shade walked alongside his horse, the two elves slumped on its back. He eyed them briefly before switching his attention back to Gil'ead. Amira tightened her grip around her sister's waist ever so slightly, making sure to keep her breathing even. The barriers of Arya's mind abruptly lowered to allow Amira's thoughts in.

_Where are we? _Arya thought wearily. She could hear the gentle sounds of hooves from under her, could feel gentle sway of motion leading her forward. Her back was pressed against who she had just realised was Amira. They leaned into one another, causing a bridge-like affect; Arya's back preventing Amira from falling backwards, and Amira's chest preventing Arya from falling forwards.

_The Shade, Durza, he's taking us somewhere. We must escape, but he is intelligent, and I fear we cannot. _

… _We must try, Amira. _Arya's desperation was strong in her sister's mind, allowing Amira to agree without a second thought.

_If you escape, you must warn the Varden and contact mother… My fears are becoming reality. _

Amira hesitated. _I will not leave you, _she thought frantically.

_I am your elder sister, you must listen to me. _Arya was stern, and Amira reluctantly agreed, despite the horrid feeling clawing at her stomach.

_I shall distract him, and you shall run, _Arya commanded. They both knew that the horse would be too slow to outrun the Shade.

… _Arya… _Amira forced her expression to remain neutral.

_I love you dearly. Do not grieve, my sister. _Affection flowed through their mental link.

When Arya spoke that way, Amira knew that she was preparing for the worst outcome. The thought of leaving her sister rejected her conscience, but she respected her greatly, and knew—even though it hurt her—that at least one of them had to escape.

_When I count to three, _Arya thought, readying herself, her limbs tingling in tension.

_One… two… three!_

They leapt of the horse in synchronisation, the horse rearing in shock, whinnying loudly. Arya jumped onto Durza's back, reaching for the dagger on her belt only to realise that it was gone. Durza reached out and grasped Arya, flinging her over his head and onto the ground. He spun around frantically, searching for the second elf. He could smell her strong scent easily, but decided that she was not worth the chase.

"Run far away, elf! Leave your companion behind to suffer the consequences!" he roared, spinning back around to Arya, who was desperately reaching for the sword at his belt. He tried to strike her in the chest, but she dodged the blow, dropping to the ground. Durza's strength shocked Arya; she had never fought a Shade before. He growled menacingly, unsheathing his sword as Arya rose. He kicked her to the ground again, stepping on her wrist. She cried out in pain, her elegant features twisting. He laughed, his true craziness seeping from the giddy tone. He pointed the sword to her chest, prodding her. A tiny pool of blood seeped out of the small wound. Arya didn't dare to move; it would only cost her more. A small whimper left her tight lips.

"You poor, poor elf," Durza murmured darkly, pouting at her like she was a child being scolded. Tears streamed down her frowning face, and she tried in vain to stand up, refusing to give in.

Another cry of pain filled the chilling air, and Arya was sure something inside of her cracked.

. . .

"Let's go, Roran!" Eragon complained, dragging his cousin away from Horst's house. Roran chuckled, rolling his eyes. It was dark outside, and glowing stars filled the night sky. A gentle breeze drifted through the village. They approached the abundance of tents along with the crowds of people to a campfire. Eragon settled quietly onto the grass, Roran following suit. They waited until the rest of the people arrived, and then it began.

The first group of storytellers were merely for entertainment. Silly role-plays and jokes were acted out, mainly for the young children there. Then, when it became even colder and everyone moved closer to the fire to keep warm, Brom appeared from one of the tents, dressed in a long black cloak. Eragon immediately paid attention, sitting up straight, eager to hear the story he was going to tell. He acknowledged Eragon and Roran with a slight nod of his head. He seemed solemn, his eyes a faraway look in them.

He held his hands out. "Listen carefully," he said in a clear, resonating voice, "for this is not a myth, but a memory that has long been forgotten by many. As time passes, memories become mere legends, and without people to recite these memories, they fade with time. I shall now tell you the story of how Galbatorix came to be so powerful, how he came to be king of Alagaësia."

Eragon leaned forward in curiosity, his eyes wide in wonder. Brom's gaze fell upon him, and he spoke...

. . .

"Eragon… you in there?"

Eragon flinched in surprise, turning to see Roran waving a hand in front of his face. He nodded tiredly, rubbing his eyes. Roran smiled, patting Eragon's shoulder before standing up, pulling the dazed boy up with him. Brom had disappeared into one of the various tents after having finished his story. Garrow appeared from behind them, placing his hands on both of their shoulders.

"You are fortunate to have heard that story," he said. "I have only heard it once or twice in my lifetime. There's no way Brom would be alive if the Empire found out."

Eragon blinked, too tired to bother asking the questions floating around his head.

"Come on, Eragon, you look awfully tired," Roran said, leading his cousin back to their wagon, where the three of them snuggled into their sleeping pallets. Eragon dozed of nearly instantly, curling up into a ball to keep extra warm.

. . .

Upon arriving back home the next day at noon, Eragon and Roran decided to wash the horses. Eragon scrubbed away at Burka's dusty coat, smiling as the horse snorted happily. Roran chuckled quietly as he worked through the knots of Brugh's mane, rolling his eyes. Eragon glanced at him, narrowing his eyes playfully.

"What?" he demanded.

"Animals seem to love you a lot," Roran explained. "It's amusing."

An annoying smirk flashed across Eragon's features. "Jealous, Roran?" he asked, arching an eyebrow. Roran opened his mouth to make a snide comment, when Eragon added, "Oh wait, you don't need to be jealous. You've got _all _the love you need." The fifteen year-old seemed to consider if commenting was worth it. He sighed, shaking his head. Eragon snickered, trying to get a reaction out of him.

"So… are you going to shut up, or am I going to tickle you? Which one is it?"

Eragon blinked, pretending to be unaffected by Roran's threat. "Roran—"

"One day, you're going to meet a girl that you can't stand to be away from," Roran cut in, rolling his eyes again.

Eragon paused, his cheeks colouring. He averted his eyes. "No, I won't," he muttered, continuing to scrub Burka's coat.

Roran chuckled. "Don't worry, it's a wonderful feeling, and… well… girls would find you… um… good-looking."

Eragon looked purely mortified. He blinked rapidly, hiding his red face behind Brugh's neck. "Okay, Roran, I don't need your… advice."

"Okay, alright!" Roran flushed. "Anyway… what did you think about Brom's story yesterday?" he asked, genuinely interested.

Eragon's expression sobered. "I can't believe Galbatorix did all those things," he murmured. "… Why?"

Roran shrugged. "I don't know. Dragon Riders are said to have very close relationships to their dragons. I guess Galbatorix just lost his mind when his died."

Eragon eyes drifted to Burka's mane. He didn't comment, but instead, continued to scrub the horse's raven coat.

. . .

Amira collapsed when she could run no further. She hurt so much that she couldn't think properly. Arya's face flashed beneath her shut eyes. Her fingers clawed at the dirt as she cried. All her reasoning dissipated, and she nearly ran back to find her sister when she realised that she needed to go to the Varden. It was at least an hour before she could stand up and continue her journey through the forest. Her desire to find Arya only deepened as she got further and further away.

"Please tell me you've escaped," she whispered, fresh tears filling her vision.

_Please._

* * *

**So how was it? Tips are always welcome. :)**_  
_


	6. Fate Uncoils

**A/N: Thanks so much for your feedback! I totally understand why it would be boring if I kind of re-wrote things that already happened in the book, but I just felt like I needed those things to happen (such as Brom telling the story) My twist on it is beginning to unravel. :) Thanks again.**

**Chapter Five: Fate Uncoils**

_Wind rushed passed. Black hair flowed. Eragon couldn't see her face. He could hear panting, almost as if she was crying. He flew forward with her, as if he was right behind her. Different shades of greens and browns flew past them. They had to be in the forest. Their speed never faltered as they ran. Or were they flying? It felt like it. Their movements were so fluid, unnaturally so. Yet time seemed to freeze, to stutter, like the dying embers of a fire._

_And then the scene changed altogether. _

_Ominous, cold, and the sickly smell of something filled the dark chamber. Eragon knew the smell. Memories of falling over and cutting himself corresponded with it. His vision was faded, but he thought he saw someone huddled in the corner. There was nothing he could do but watch. He thought he heard quiet sobs coming from the shaking form, but he couldn't be sure. A cold chuckle made his heart jump in fright. The grating sound of steel against concrete echoed through the cold room. _

_Something was murmured, too quietly for Eragon's ears to discern. Another dark, blurred figure entered his vision. The form turned to face him, almost as if he or she knew he was there. _

Eragon's eyes snapped open, and he rose from his bed a little too fast, causing his head to spin in protest. His heart was beating so fast that he had to sit there and wait until it slowed. He glanced out of his window to see the moon shining bright in the dark sky. Spooked by his dream, he slowly—as to not bother his head—lay down again, pulling the warm covers over himself. Over the next hour, he tried to calm his nerves, focusing on breathing deeply, but he just couldn't seem to relax.

Sitting up and pulling his boots on, Eragon quietly stood. He held his hands out to keep his balance in the dark room. He nearly fell over in shock when he looked towards his shelf. The light of the moon reflected off the sapphire stone. It was cracked open from the middle. The missing parts of it must have fallen to the floor. Eragon stumbled towards it, reaching out hesitantly to feel the remaining smooth surface.

_Whatever was inside it has to be somewhere, _he thought nervously. His eyes drifted to the door. It was open a crack. He blinked slowly, trying to remember if he had left it open before he had gone to sleep. Eragon was outside not a minute later, searching—much to his surprise—with desperation. He wondered through the fields, lifting bunches of grass and eyeing the trees.

_Maybe it can climb, _he thought as he placed a hand on a damp tree trunk. He glanced up at the sky, gasping when something fell from the branch of the tree. His eyes widened in shock.

Before him was a dragon.

Its scales were the same sapphire colour as the egg—as Eragon had realised—it had been encased in. It was tiny. Before he knew it, a smile was tugging at his lips. The dragon snorted, a puff of dark smoke leaving its nostrils. Eragon blinked in surprise. He hesitantly got to his knees, reaching out. Pain shot up his arm as his fingers skimmed its scaly body. A moan escaped him as he sunk further into the grass, holding his right hand to his chest. It seemed like hours until it stopped, but when it finally did, he was aware of the dragon curled up beside him, prodding his back with its snout. He glanced at his hand and nearly fell back in shock. A soft, white oval shimmered on his palm. It itched like mad.

_What… is that? She's a girl dragon … How did I know that? Wait—a dragon!_

The thought was forgotten as something in Eragon's mind shifted. He felt less stable, as if his mind had been opened to a new world. It was as if there were barriers protecting it, and if he wanted to venture out, he could. But what rested beyond the barriers, he had no idea. He recoiled as a pressure brushed against his consciousness. The force vanished, but he still felt as if something was lingering in his thoughts.

The sapphire dragon paused and stared at Eragon. Eragon froze on his hands and knees, gaping like a fool. Sapphire stared into muddy brown.

"Saphira," Eragon blurted without thinking. Frowning, he reached forward again, hesitantly placing his index finger on her small snout. Nothing happened, much to his relief. "I… I think I'll call you Saphira," he murmured, smiling softly as Saphira snorted. She leant her neck back, nuzzling his hand. It took Eragon a moment to realise that she seemed to be searching for something.

_Oh… right… food. _

"Okay, well…" Eragon paused, eyeing Saphira thoughtfully.

_I wonder… _

He moved closer to Saphira. The dragon paused, alarmed.

"It's okay," he crooned gently, lifting her small body. Saphira watched him the whole time as he wandered home, her eyes curious.

. . .

With his hands suspended on their rests of his throne, Galbatorix stared at the massive double doors. His dark eyes shined with wisdom. Everything about the room was foreboding. No light entered it; there were no windows. Only lanterns lit the enormous area. A long, deep red carpet extended down the room until it met three small steps, and then Galbatorix's throne. It was cold. The steady rhythm of his dragon's deep breathing filled the silence.

_Galbatorix, time is wearing thin, _Shruikan thought. _The egg may have been found. _

_Durza has failed, _the king thought back, anger lacing his tone. _I have sent the Ra'zac searching for the egg. If they find the egg has hatched, I have ordered them to bring the new rider to me, where I shall deal with him or her._

The deep rumbling of Shruikan's throat filled Galbatorix's ears, and he chuckled, a threatening smile gracing his lips.

. . .

"Elf, you are testing our patience," Durza hissed into Arya's ear, placing his cold hand on her exposed neck. Arya flinched, but couldn't move away because chains held her to the concrete wall of her cell. Her emerald eyes glared in hate, fixed on the opposite wall. Her willpower had impressed and infuriated the Shade. Durza growled menacingly, stepping back. He grasped her face, smiling as she grimaced.

"Speak," said Durza. "Or you would rather feel pain?" His eyebrows raised a notch, his maroon eyes glinting. When she didn't react, he slapped her hard across the cheek. A few tears slipped down her cheek, her lips pressing into a tight line.

"I will not tell you anything," Arya said quietly, her tone firm.

"You will!" Durza roared, slapping her a second time, but harder.

A small whimper left Arya's throat. Her whole face stung, yet she somehow ignored the pain, refusing to give in. Durza laughed.

"Oh," he murmured darkly, "did that hurt?" He pouted, leaning closer than Arya was comfortable with. "We can do so much more damage. Why should you suffer? We could become so strong together." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Your companion cannot save you, even if she does come back. The damage will be done… unless you are willing to speak."

Arya stayed silent, biting back the retort boiling in her throat.

"Answer me, elf!" Durza ordered harshly, gripping her chained forearms.

_Patience… Patience and the elf will not be able to resist. _Durza suddenly spun around, striding towards the cell door and opening it. He stepped out, locking it with a key.

"Patience," he muttered to himself before disappearing down the hall.

Arya let out a deep breath that she hadn't realised she had been holding. She squeezed her eyes shut, hoping that her sister was safe.

. . .

"Eragon, w-w-what… is that?" Roran stuttered in shock.

Eragon held Saphira close to his chest, stroking her gently. He shot Roran a glare to silence him. They were in Eragon's room. It was dawn, the gentle breeze blowing through the slightly open window. Eragon and Roran sat on his bed.

"What does it look like, Roran?" Eragon snapped in annoyance, his voice quiet.

Roran blinked. "Where did you find this dragon?" he asked anxiously.

"Saphira," Eragon corrected.

Roran's eyes widened. "You've named it?" he exclaimed.

"Keep your voice down," Eragon whispered sharply. Saphira snuggled into the crook of his elbow, ignoring Roran. Eragon smiled gently at her.

Roran shook his head, disapproval in his eyes. "Eragon, we can't keep it."

"She has a name," Eragon corrected. "And we have to keep her."

Roran frowned. "Why? You think it's a coincidence that you just _found_ a dragon? _Saphira _isn't yours."

Eragon's smile fell. "… What's this?" He showed Roran the palm of his right hand.

Roran grabbed his hand, staring in shock at the white oval shimmering on it. He was clearly distressed. He stared at it for long time, before muttering, "Eragon… does this mean…" He trailed off, rejecting the thought.

"Am I a Dragon Rider, Roran?" Eragon breathed. They shared a worried glance before looking to Saphira.

"This can't be," Roran muttered worriedly. "Eragon, this isn't possible. The Dragon Riders all died ages ago."

Eragon motioned for Roran to touch her. He glanced at Eragon before hesitantly placing a finger on one of Saphira's scales. The sapphire dragon flinched in surprise, pulling her head out of its warm spot to watch Roran. Roran blinked nervously, pulling his hand back slightly. Saphira snorted, a small plume of smoke leaving her nostrils.

"Wow," Roran uttered, a small smile tugging at his lips despite the apprehension he felt.

Eragon grinned. "She likes you," he murmured.

Saphira leaned forward with her long neck, nuzzling Roran's palm with her snout. Roran chuckled, patting her softly. "Do you… share thoughts?"

"No, but I can feel her basic wants, like when she's hungry or sad," Eragon answered.

"How did you know she was a girl?"

"I just knew as soon as she did this." Eragon motioned to his right palm.

"… How did she do that? Wait—how did this all happen?"

"Well… I woke up…" Eragon paused, deciding he didn't want Roran to know about his dream. "And then I saw the egg broken in two on the shelf… so I went searching outside, found Saphira, and when I touched her, pain shot up my arm… I don't know how long it lasted, but… when I looked at my palm…" Eragon shrugged.

Roran nodded slowly, absorbing the new information. "So… what we thought was a stone is in fact a dragon egg?" Eragon nodded in confirmation.

"I feel like something bad is going to happen… I'm sure someone must be searching for that egg, and I wouldn't be surprised if it was Galbatorix."

"Which is why I have to protect her… I need to Roran. I feel like I need to." Eragon stared at Saphira, his eyes protective.

"… Should we tell Garrow?" Roran asked quietly, his voice resigned.

Eragon paused, frowning. "Not now… When she's a bit older."

"And… you realise she's just going to keep growing?"

Eragon sighed. "… Yes… I'll deal with that later."

"How? Come on, Eragon, don't be stupid," Roran said.

"Just trust me for once, Roran," Eragon pleaded. "I know what I feel, and I know I can't leave her in the forest, because it would drive me insane!"

Roran looked down at his hands. "I'm just… worried. I don't want something bad to happen to you."

Eragon's eyes softened. "I'll be fine, Roran. I'm… I'm stronger now."

Eragon's words seemed to hang in the air. Roran knew that he was referring to the fact that he had witnessed Marian's death. His heart sank as he remembered it. He blinked, surprised to find that there were tears running down his cheeks. Roran barely cried, only unless he was really upset about something.

"Roran?" Eragon whispered in shock. "I… I'm so sorry, I shouldn't have—hey, it's okay."

He gently placed a confused Saphira beside him, leaning forward to hug Roran. Roran burst into quiet sobs, causing Eragon to as well. They cried into each other for a long time, sharing the sadness that had been concealed within them for years. When they eventually stopped, silence filled the air, except for Saphira's soft snorts.

"Remember when she told us those crazy stories?" Roran murmured.

Eragon nodded slightly, his eyes squeezed shut. "Yeah... I remember."

"And you got so scared once that you ran out of the house screaming, _I'm an innocent_?" Roran sounded half depressed, half amused.

Eragon chuckled half-heartedly. "Hey, it was scary at the time," he argued. "You were scared too. You were just too _tough_ to show it."

Roran snorted softly. "Sorry," he said playfully.

They slowly pulled apart, wiping their tear-streaked faces. Eragon sighed, rubbing his eyelids. "Garrow will probably wake up soon... I have to take Saphira somewhere."

Roran shook his head. "I can't let you go alone," he insisted.

"You have to," Eragon said. "What if Garrow wakes up and finds us both gone?"

"But—"

"Roran, I'll be fine," Eragon cut in, lifting Saphira up again. The dragon stared at her Rider, waiting for some mollycoddling no doubt. Eragon ignored her for the moment, giving his cousin a pleading look.

Roran sighed deeply. "… Ok… I'll make an excuse if Garrow wakes up. Where are you going?"

"To the Spine, I guess. I won't go far, I promise," Eragon answered quickly, standing up.

Before Eragon slipped out of the room, Roran said worriedly, "Be careful."

* * *

**I think I'm going to fast forward time a little bit, just until Saphira's a little older. Anyway, thanks for reading! :) **


	7. Gil'ead

**A/N: This scene ended up longer then I expected, so back to Eragon next chapter. Thanks for reading and reviewing, I really appreciate it. :)**

**Chapter Six: Gil'ead**

Amira_ stood before Ajihad, leader of the Varden. She had made it to Tronjheim mere minutes ago. The Varden leader sat at the table of the council room. He motioned for her to sit, and then ordered his guards out. Amira liked Ajihad, and respected him a great deal, but did not have it in her to smile. In fact, her expression was barely controlled. Her crystal blue eyes shone with angst. Ajihad knew that something had been wrong when she had scyred him without Arya. She had refused to say more until she arrived. _

_Ajihad frowned. "Amira, where's Arya?" His dark eyes studied her expression warily._

_Amira stared at her hands in her lap before glancing up. Her lips trembled slightly, but her eyes seemed calmer than before. She recited all that had happened to the leader. Ajihad's eyes flashed with worry—and a bit of relief—as she mentioned that Arya had transported the egg somewhere, but he didn't comment. He listened with growing surprise as he heard about Arya's capture. _

"_And you are almost certain Arya was captured?" Ajihad questioned._

_Amira nodded stiffly, avoiding his eyes. "I must go and save her," she declared firmly. _

_The leader gazed thoughtfully ahead. "… You shall require help," he said after a long silence. _

_Amira shook her head. "I need to be discreet. I cannot have company. I think I know where Durza took her." _

"_How are you going to escape Gil'ead with Arya? Will she even be… conscious?_

_Amira's eyes narrowed protectively. "I will rescue her either way; I do not care the cost."_

"… _I cannot afford to lose you both. Something larger than we know is stirring in Alagaësia. Please, take someone." Ajihad waited for her answer, his expression half calm, half stern._

_Amira nodded impatiently. "If you insist," she said. "May Orik accompany me?" Orik was the only dwarf that Amira particularly liked. He was friendly and caring, yet strong and determined._

_Ajihad curtly bowed his head. "It is up to him. You may ask Orik."_

_Amira rose from her chair. "Then I shall be off."_

"_Be careful, Amira, and may your journey be swift," Ajihad said, sighing in resignation as Amira strode out of the massive double doors of the council room._

Amira and Orik crept silently through the trees, hiding behind bushes to avoid being seen by the guards surrounding the walls of Gil'ead. There were an abundance of guards on the wall, pacing back and forth in boredom. Amira had disguised them to appear more human-like. Orik appeared as a shabby, hairy child, while Amira a full grown woman. Though, if one looked real close, they would immediately notice that something was off. Their plan was simple: They would try to climb over the wall, and then wonder through the streets, acting like humans. Amira paused behind a bush, crouching lower to evade the prying guards' eyes.

Glancing at Orik, she whispered, "I fear I may have to slay some guards. They will see us."

The dwarf nodded. "Then you must," he confirmed.

Amira turned, moving as close to the wall as she could without being seen. She focused her attention on the closest guard. The man wasn't even paying attention anyway. He whistled an odd tune, staring at the ground. A snap of a twig caught his attention, but he was already too late. As soon as the word left Amira's lips, he was dead, falling to the ground with a small _thump_. The next closest guard was just as helpless under Amira's magic. The third tried to shoot her with an arrow, but Orik easily deflected the blow before it hit her. A tall guard wandered along the top of the wall, oblivious to them. He fell to the ground almost soundlessly.

Orik was the first one to approach the wall after the small battle, glancing up at the top. He looked back to see Amira climbing a tall tree.

"Arya?" he hissed nervously. "You can't be serious?" He knew what she was doing. The tree's branches reached far out from its trunk, and one of the branches exceeded in length, stroking the outside of the wall.

_It's too thin! _Orik thought.

Orik had no idea how she was planning to safely get to the wall. People would see her.

"Do not follow me" Amira ordered as she gripped a branch, hoisting herself further up the trunk.

"Ajihad ordered me to help," Orik argued in annoyance.

Amira paused, giving her friend a look that made him fall silent immediately. _Stay_, she mouthed. Orik frowned in disapproval, but complied noiselessly.

"I may need your help to escape," Amira whispered before reaching the branch she wanted. She straddled the branch, slowly inching forwards along it. Every time a guard turned, she immediately killed them with one of the twelve death words. They fell so quietly that none of their comrades noticed, unless they were looking in that direction. It made her feel cruel, but she couldn't imagine leaving her sister. She tried to ignore the sick feeling in her stomach every time she took a life. Even after she accepted it years ago, it never eased the guilt. She had discussed it with Arya numerous times.

_Arya. _

With her determination renewed, Amira reached out as far as she could, her fingers skimming the cement wall. She glanced down, seeing Orik watching her nervously. Her fingers gripped the rim of the wall, and with all her effort, she pulled herself over the edge, falling to the path in between the two boundaries. She took a deep breath, slowly rising to her hands and knees.

"Did you hear that?" she heard a gruff voice ask.

"… Hear what, Caden? You ought to go get your ears checked," replied what sounded like a younger man.

"No, I swear I heard something," the gruff voice demanded irritably.

Footsteps approached Amira, and her eyes widened. She didn't want to kill any more guards if she could help it. Stumbling backwards, she searched for some kind of exit.

"Who's there?" the younger voice yelled.

Just as he said it, a space in the small barriers on either side of the path came into view. A ladder dropped down the side of the wall. An escape. Amira swung herself over the edge of the path, racing down the ladder as fast as her feet allowed her to. People wandered around, getting on with their daily chores. Slipping into a throng of locals, she looked at the ground, walking slowly. In her peripheral vision, she saw the two guards rush down the ladder. Their eyes raked through crowds suspiciously.

She kept walking, giving them an innocent glance. The younger man smiled charmingly, his dark eyes travelling the length of her body. It took all the strength she had in her not glare at him. She quickly turned a corner down the road, trying to control her racing heart. She didn't have long. She knew that it was only a matter of time before the guards would find their dead companions on the wall.

Amira hurried through the city, smiling at people who walked passed her with slightly confused expressions. She probed gently for Arya's familiar presence as she strode past buildings. Her step faltered when she felt the faint buzz of her sister's thoughts.

_Arya!_

No reply echoed through her mind, only an image. It was of a rundown looking building. It was plain, devoid of windows. A deep red door with cracked paint was the only entrance. And then the image flickered out. Amira's eyes shot frantically around, searching for the building.

_There! _She knew that she never would have spotted it if it hadn't been for Arya's help. It stood inconspicuously between two other seemingly unoccupied buildings. Amira approached the door and waited until the road was reasonably clear, before pushing it open. It proved more difficult then she expected, but eventually budged. No human would be able to open the door, and Amira had a feeling that it was made for that sole purpose.

She entered the dark room. It was full of tables and chairs, but other than that, was empty. It was so quiet that she could hear her own breathing, even her heart beating. She slowly drifted towards the front of the room. She had expected a fight then and there, but was met with nothing. No Shade appeared.

_Maybe… it's the wrong place… No, it has to be here… I saw it._

It was then when she saw some stairs. She could see some light at the bottom, a hallway maybe. She didn't dare to probe for Arya's mind again. Durza had to be in there, and she wasn't going to take the risk. She made it to the bottom of the stairs quickly, and as soon as she saw the cells, she knew Arya was there. She was in a long hallway. Cells lined the sides all the way to the end, where the hallway met a dead end. She took a step. It echoed through the room, causing her to shiver. Nothing happened. She took another, and another, until she was jogging, searching desperately down the hall.

Each cell she passed was empty, making her run faster each time. She raced past a cell, hearing her name being moaned. She froze, turning to her right, and nearly broke into tears at the sight of her sister. Arya stood, bounded in chains, to the wall. Her exposed skin was covered in cuts, some healed, some still weeping blood. Their eyes locked. Emerald stared into crystal blue. They shared their affection through the look.

"A-a-a…" Amira couldn't finish her sentence.

"Quickly," Arya whispered hoarsely, her face pulling into a grimace.

Amira whispered a spell to the lock—that she had made up with Arya years ago—forcing it to open. She ignored the questions in her head, rushing directly to her sister. She used the same spell with the chains, trying to ignore the guilt tugging at her heart. As soon as Arya was free from her chains, they embraced tightly.

"Let's get out of here," Amira whispered gently. She held Arya's hand as they rushed towards the steps. Arya had a slight limp, but kept running anyway. They approached the front door, when Arya paused suddenly.

_Something isn't right, _Arya warned. _It's too easy._

Amira ignored her sister for once, trying to open the red door. It wouldn't move. It was completely jammed.

"_Going_ somewhere?" the all too familiar voice asked from behind them. Arya swung around, her eyes narrowed with hate. Amira cursed quietly, wanting to attack Durza.

"You would be safe if you only joined us, yet still, you refuse," Durza murmured, seemingly disappointed.

"_Safe_, Shade?" Amira snapped. "I don't think so."

_Stop, _Arya ordered. _We must attack._

Durza's expression darkened. "Oh, is that so? You are brave to defy a Shade, elf."

Arya slowly moved forward, Amira protectively on her trail. She knew that she had no magic to use. It must have been the food she was given. Durza did something to it, though she wasn't sure what. The two sisters looked almost identical, except for the colour of their eyes and a few other small features. Durza's threatening smile grew, and he sighed.

"Indeed, a fair go is deserved," he said teasingly as he unsheathed a sword from his belt, tossing it towards Arya. She jumped back, letting it fall to the ground with an echoing _clink_, before hesitantly picking it up. Durza unsheathed his own sword.

"Stay out of this," he warned Amira, "or else I shall use magic to kill you both."

"That's unfair," Amira growled.

Durza laughed. "You do not believe your sister is strong enough? Your magic will not work against me. I am virtually invincible."

Arya leapt at Durza just as Amira was about to reply, striking at the unprepared Shade. She barely cut him, but still managed to surprise him enough to attack again, slitting a deep gash in his forearm. Durza ducked under her sword, cursing harshly.

"You want to play it that way?" he snarled.

They lunged at each other, exchanging a quick flash of blows. Amira was barely restraining herself from getting involved. She slowly shuffled forward in a wide arc around the room. Durza was too occupied by Arya's sword swinging dangerously close to his chest to notice Amira advancing from behind.

Arya lashed her sword at Durza swiftly, but was met with resistance as their swords locked together. Arya let out a small growl as she tried to gain the upper hand, but Durza was too strong, not to mention her physical state was far from healthy.

Durza grinned menacingly. "You will lose," he said firmly, dragging the words out of clenched teeth. And then something hard was smashed into the back of his head, causing the Shade's sword to slip from his fingers. He fell forwards onto his knees, and in the same instant was beheaded by his own sword. Blood spurted everywhere, coating both Arya and Amira. His head rolled down under a table. Suddenly, an abundance of soldiers burst through the door. Amira had no idea how they could have opened it; she had not been able to herself.

Arya grasped Amira's hand, ducking under a table, the pain of her sore limbs briefly forgotten as they hid. She held Durza's bloody sword close to her chest. Chaos filled the building, and they could hear screams outside. Arya and Amira moved from table to table, until they got to the door, where they slipped out, unnoticed. They ran for the wall, Amira showing Arya the ladder. They climbed up it, only to be met by guards who had obviously figured out that they were no locals.

"Hey, you!" the same young man called out from a few metres down the path. He pointed accusingly to Amira, his eyes narrowed. Arya showed the guard her sword, warning him to stay away. The man laughed, lunging forward with his own sword. Arya easily ducked under his blade, stabbing him in the chest. He let out a shocked cry, before falling backwards. Other soldiers attacked the elves, but were unprepared for their skill, falling rapidly to their deaths. Amira killed them with spells, kicking them to the ground, where they scurried away, knowing they weren't dealing with a normal woman. Arya used her sword, swinging at them without mercy.

As soon as the guards were laying slayed by their feet, Arya and Amira turned, sprinting up the path. Arya followed her sister as she climbed the branch, glancing back to see men who had seen the small battle rushing towards the wall. Orik was waiting at the base of the tree trunk, his eyes widening when he saw Arya and Amira, their faces splattered with gore. They didn't have time to exchange greetings. Amira merely snatched Orik from the ground and ran, Arya by her side.

* * *

**Thoughts, comments, tips? :) Thanks again. Oh, and I'm aware that a Shade only dies from being stabbed in the chest. *wink***


	8. One Saved, One Lost

**Chapter Seven: One saved, One Lost**

Arya, Amira and Orik settled around a campfire. They had made their camp as soon as they could run no further, and the sun had disappeared behind the peaks of the mountains. The fire's blazing flames licked the air hungrily. The sound of crickets echoed through the trees. Stars littered the night sky, twinkling brightly in contrast. Arya sat in silence, staring at the flames in deep thought, as Amira recited the day's events to Orik.

"You _killed_ the Shade," the dwarf asked doubtfully, "that easily?"

"No," said Arya neutrally, lifting her eyes to regard the dwarf. "It was too simple. Very few have achieved such a task, and the ones that have barely the survived the ordeal."

Amira glanced at Orik, and then to Arya, her eyes anxious. "I have heard stories of them," she admitted. "He isn't dead? How is that possible?"

"And why would he have let you live?" Orik added. He knew something was amiss. He could sense it. He played with his beard anxiously. "He could have killed you both in minutes."

A hint of sour regret flashed across Arya's face. "For strength," she stated, her emerald eyes glinting. "A Shade can only die when he or she is stabbed in the heart. When disembodied however, their spirit form appears elsewhere, where another body is stolen. We had no choice, but now we must pay the price."

. . .

Eragon couldn't believe how fast Saphira was growing. She had completely outgrown her original size in the past month alone. She was taller than Eragon, granting Eragon wasn't very tall. Her rate of growth was so high that Eragon had been forced to make her a new shelter, under a new tree—she had just about shredded the last one to bits sharpening her claws.

Eragon sat under a tall tree in the Spine, scratching Saphira's head, which rested upon his lap. Her eyes were closed, her chest rising and falling in an even pattern. A continuous hum reverberated from her throat, willing Eragon to close his eyes and let the warm arms of sleep encompass him.

Roran kept bugging him about letting Garrow know, but Eragon refused every occasion, claiming that he just needed a little more time. He didn't know why the prospect was so daunting, but whenever he imagined telling his uncle, nervousness clawed at his stomach, and he immediately dismissed the thought. Garrow had questioned his absence a few times, but Eragon always managed an excuse, and Garrow had not pursued the issue, although he still seemed suspicious.

It hadn't been long, but his relationship with Saphira had developed somewhat. Communication was difficult between them; they could only share faint emotions and blurred images. She had begun to fly the week before, and had not stopped since. Eragon usually settled under a tree—much like he was now—and talked to her. He would tell her about his life, and even mentioned some of his deepest inquisitions that no one else was privy to, not even Roran. Eragon had never felt so free to talk aloud. Saphira didn't have the words to judge him, she just watched him intently, almost as if she understood what he was saying. When he had mentioned Marian a few days earlier, Eragon had burst into tears uncontrollably. Saphira had nuzzled her long head into his jacket and had hummed gently to him. From then on, a new closeness was established between the two. She was constantly lingering somewhere in his mind, even when he was in the fields doing chores. It pleased and terrified Eragon simultaneously.

. . .

Eragon wandered through the grass towards the house after visiting Saphira. It was early morning. He smiled softly, twisting a light green stem around his fingers. He expected to see Roran with the horses, but found only an empty stable. He paused, frowning in confusion. He rushed to the field behind the house to see the chickens and cow watching him absent-mindedly.

_What's going on?_

Dismayed, he entered the house, only to find it unoccupied. Something inside him leapt in fear. He paused in the kitchen after making a loop around the empty house, trying to calm his racing heart. A soft pressure touched his thoughts. It was Saphira. She was worried.

_Come, _Eragon thought as strongly as he could, trying to emphasize the thought on her. A subtle understanding passed through their metal link. Eragon sped out of the house, standing upon the hill. A blue dot appeared in the sky minutes later. Saphira landed hastily, her claws digging deeply into the dirt at the rough landing. Eragon ran to her.

"Saphira," he said hurriedly, his mind blanking. He suddenly realised that he had not the slightest clue what to do.

The sapphire dragon suddenly jerked back from him, her eyes widening in alarm at something behind Eragon.

_Eragon! Danger!_

Eragon gasped in shock—and was given meagre time to react—as Saphira bolted at him, forcing him to grab hold of her neck.

_No, Saphira! _Eragon demanded in shock.

_Climb! My back! _Saphira snapped as she leapt into the air. Eragon arms instinctively tightened around her neck, his fingers clinging to a neck spike. He didn't dare to look down, concentrating on keeping hold of her with his arms and legs, ignoring the freezing wind rushing past them, ringing in his ears. The insides of his thighs, as well as his arms, stung painfully from rubbing against Saphira's rough scales. He couldn't even touch her mind. She was beyond crazy, driven mad by whatever she had seen. He squeezed his eyes shut.

_This is a bad dream… This is bad dream… _He kept repeating the same though over and over through his head. It was hard to concentrate while his exposed skin stung with such intensity. This was no bad dream, and Eragon knew it. Saphira jerked upwards, a growl escaping her. Eragon's eyes snapped open, and he glanced below them. His worries were confirmed as another creature flew beneath them. It wasn't a dragon, but it looked suspiciously similar to one. Its thick muscles rippled under its tough skin. What distinguished it from a dragon was its ridiculously long beak. Above that were its two unblinking eyes, each as large as a fist. Eragon gasped, forgetting the pain he felt briefly. On its back was another creature, wrapped in a dark cape.

_What are they? What do they want?_

Eragon tried to penetrate Saphira's mind barriers, but she just wouldn't listen. He could barely hold on anymore. The creature below them suddenly shot up towards them. Saphira dodged it as it flew past them. She flew higher, trying to gain the advantage.

"Saphira, I can't hold on!" Eragon yelled desperately.

Saphira's mind suddenly opened slightly, just to allow his thoughts in. The creature seemed to be toying with Saphira, trying to tire her. It was working. Every time she tried to attack, it darted away. Saphira tried to give Eragon the strength to hold on, but her efforts were futile; Eragon's hands were slipping.

"I can't!" Eragon cried, feeling himself slipping.

_Hold on! _Saphira pleaded.

And then Eragon fell.

Saphira roared suddenly, shooting downwards after him. Something shoved her in the side roughly. She spiralled off course, a small gash on her shoulder. Saphira growled, rushing towards the creature. She swiped at it, but it dodged her again. Eragon was in so much shock that he couldn't make a sound. Wind rushed passed him at an incredibly fast rate. He was going to die if he landed. He couldn't comprehend the thought. To die at such a young age would be a terrible tragedy.

_I'm going to die. _The words were hollow in his head, devoid of meaning.

Saphira's thoughts disappeared from his mind, or perhaps he forgot how to think. He felt himself abruptly slow, almost as if he was a feather, drifting in the wind. He was grabbed by something, and placed upon leathery material that he could only imagine was a saddle. He slowly opened his eyes, wondering if he was dead, and there was in fact an afterlife. Black pupil-less eyes glared into his. Fear clenched at his stomach so strongly that he felt like he couldn't breathe. His mind rejected him. His world abruptly went black as one last cry sounded in the distance from Saphira.

. . .

Roran knocked on the door of Brom's small house. He had left earlier in the afternoon to see Brom. He had told Garrow that he was going to see the storyteller, and to tell Eragon where he was if he arrived early. The door creaked open, Brom appearing in the doorway. He seemed to regard Roran suspiciously before greeting him and allowing him inside. Brom settled in a big leather seat while Roran found himself some space under the various scrolls littered over the floor.

Roran waited in silence as the storyteller lit his pipe.

"What is it, Roran?" asked Brom, inhaling from the pipe. "Where is Eragon?"

Roran took a deep breath, steadying himself, before saying, "Eragon's in the Spine—"

"Alone?" Brom snapped, his eyes widening.

Roran hesitated. "Well… yes—but he's fine. He has Saphira… his dragon."

The storyteller dropped his pipe. Brom's face twisted into an emotion that Roran couldn't comprehend.

"What? You found such a creature and did not tell me sooner? Are you an absolute fool?" he boomed.

Roran frowned, shocked by his outburst. "No—well… he wouldn't let me tell anyone… I'm sorry."

Brom seemed to force his red face to neutralize before settling further back into his seat. "Tell me everything," was all he said, his tone flat.

Roran sighed. "We were out hunting in the Spine. As soon as I shot the doe, Saphira's egg appeared. We thought it was a stone, and took it to Carvahall when the traders came. The trader refused to buy or trade for it. And one day, I woke up to find Eragon holding a baby dragon in his arms! He's been taking care of it ever since—"

"How long has he had it?" Brom interrupted.

"Um… about a month," Roran mumbled, gauging Brom's expression.

The storyteller didn't comment, his eyes glinting. "Continue."

"… I kept trying to convince him to tell someone, but he refused… I had to tell you. Someone must be searching for her."

"Indeed," said Brom with bitter regret. "And he decided on… her name?"

Roran nodded slowly, wondering why it mattered to the storyteller. "Y-yes… Why?"

Brom seemed to be calculating something. He saw Roran's questioning glance. "What, boy?"

Roran blinked. "Why does her name matter to you?"

Brom averted his eyes. "It does not matter," he murmured. "We must go, both of us. I need to see… this dragon… S-Saphira."

Roran hid his disappointment; he had been longing to visit Katrina.

. . .

They arrived at the small farm at noon. Burka and Brugh started snorting nervously as they got closer and closer to the small house on the hill. As soon as Roran stopped the wagon, Brom hastily jumped to the ground, rushing to the house. Roran patted Brugh as he drifted past the mare, wondering what was wrong. The air seemed tainted, and Roran felt his insides churning nervously.

The horses snorted and shifted on their hooves uneasily.

"What is it?" Roran murmured gently, stroking their raven coats.

He watched as Brom knelt over on the hill, placing his hand on the grass. The storyteller started shaking his head in shock. His mouth moved in a continuous pattern, as if he was muttering to himself. Roran left the spooked horses hesitantly, striding slowly to Brom.

"What—" Roran's voice eluded him when he saw marks in the dirt. Brom ignored him, rising from his knees to search the hill. Roran walked to the house, noticing the door was wide open. His heart leapt in trepidation. He wondered through the house, searching for someone. All the rooms were empty. It didn't feel like his house anymore.

"Garrow? Eragon?" No reply. Roran rushed back outside. Brom was standing on the hill, his hand held over his mouth. He seemed so stricken, which did nothing to reduce Roran's worry. He ran over to the storyteller.

"They aren't in the house," he said hurriedly. Brom looked towards him, his eyes firm.

"I must find Eragon," he stated.

"W-what? But he might be in the Spine!" Roran argued.

"He is not in the Spine. Do you know what marks these are?" Brom pointed to the deep gashes in the ground.

"… Dragon claws?" Roran didn't want to think about what could have happened.

"Precisely," Brom confirmed. "And a few metres in front are another set of claws that are suspiciously similar."

Roran's eyes widened, glancing towards the other marks. "You mean… another dragon was here too?"

"No, not a dragon… something else."

Roran wanted to punch himself as hard as he could. If he hadn't have left, he would have at least been able to protect Eragon.

"I need one of you horses. You can ride the other one to town. Stay there. I don't care where. Have my house if you need. Just _stay there_."

Roran shook his head, his eyebrows furrowing, his heart rate picking up again. "But—you don't even know where he is! You can't just leave without me! I'm coming with you!"

"_No_," Brom said sternly. "You will stay here. It's too dangerous, and I cannot have you with me."

"But—"

"I do not have time. Will you give me one of your horses, Roran?"

Roran opened his mouth to argue, but then controlled himself. _I'm wasting time. Eragon could be in danger right now. _He slowly nodded, willing his legs to move. He grabbed the saddles and bridles from the racks of the stable, and rushed back to the horses. He unharnessed the horses and gave Brom Burka. They saddled up. Roran felt numb. He knew the situation hadn't completely dawned on him yet.

Brom paused before mounting Burka. He turned to Roran, who was already on Brugh, looking miserable.

"I will find him, I promise," Brom said softly. Roran nodded slowly, averting his eyes. Brugh turned, trudging back down the hill. The overcast sky seemed to darken with the solemn mood.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! :)**


	9. Fear, Sorrow, Guilt and Pain

**Chapter Eight: Fear, Sorrow, Guilt and Pain**

Saphira threw herself into the trunk of a tree, her eyes enraged. She ignored the pain that shot through her wounded shoulder. She snorted puffs of dark smoke, tearing her claws down the unfortunate tree, shredding it to bits. She attempted—one last time—to fly, but her muscles wouldn't obey her mind's command. Exhausted, she collapsed to the ground. She couldn't feel Eragon's presence in her thoughts. What terrified her most was that she had no idea where he was. A horrible sense of loss encompassed her. An hour passed before she could fly again.

She could see only a single resolution:

_Roran. _He was the only other person that she knew.

. . .

Burka hurried through the moist grass, her hooves sinking into the mud. Brom looked to the sky in anger, his eyes widening when he caught sight of a blue form. He immediately identified it as a dragon, and the only possible dragon it could be was Saphira. He halted Burka and raised his hand in the air, forcing her barriers open—she was too crazed to even notice him. The dragon paused in the sky.

_I am Brom, Eragon's friend, _Brom said, trying to impress the thought on the young dragon. It seemed that the dragon recognised at least her rider's name, because the blue shape suddenly jolted, rushing forward at a faster pace towards Brom. As she got closer, Brom marvelled at her sapphire scales. He blinked the emotion away from his eyes, keeping his mind open to Saphira.

Burka neighed, snorting uneasily, shifting as Saphira flew closer and closer.

"Shh, it's alright," Brom cooed, stroking her neck gently. Saphira landed roughly, at least ten metres away, her eyes shining with caution. She seemed to eye Brom with suspicion.

_Eragon! _she thought. _Eragon! Danger! _In Brom's mind appeared a blurred image of what he realised was a Ra'zac and Lethrblaka. He frowned, dismounting Burka hastily, and approached Saphira with caution.

He pronounced his words slowly, thinking them simultaneously. "Can you feel Eragon?"

Saphira blinked, unable to understand. She snorted worriedly. _Eragon, _she repeated desperately. Brom gently reached out with his hand to stroke her forehead.

_Roran, _Saphira said. _Eragon. Roran. Eragon needs Roran. Eragon needs… help. _

_I understand. _Brom knew what was happening. _They're taking him to Urû'baen! _

He looked at Saphira. _I know where Eragon is. I will take you to Eragon. _Recognition passed through their mental link. Brom turned, hurrying back to Burka. He mounted her, digging his heels into her belly.

_Come, _he thought before retreating back into the confines of his own mind.

. . .

Eragon was abruptly pulled back to consciousness, agony being the first thing he felt. The insides of his thighs and arms hurt to such an extent, that he couldn't bear the thought of moving ever again. He then became aware of the fact that he was straddling a leather saddle, which was rubbing against his tender thighs. No wonder they hurt so much. His back was pressed against a soft material, and two strong arms held him in place. Air rushed past his ears, producing a high-pitched ringing. His head ached terribly, a constant throb adding to the whistling in his ears. He tried to recall what had happened, but his blistered limbs prevented him from being capable of concentrating. All he could remember was the pained cry of Saphira in the distance, and the strange creatures he had seen.

_Saphira! _Eragon's heart rate sped up. He hadn't even thought about where he was yet, but something stopped him from taking a peek. He knew that he was in danger. He knew that he wasn't on Saphira's back.

And then the realisation hit him like a ton of bricks.

_I'm with… with… _He didn't know what to call them. He tried to remember stories of strange creatures Brom may have told him, but a sudden wave of pain tore through his head. It took every last bit of strength he had not to cry out in agony. A jolt shook him—_its _arms tightening around him—as they dropped in height, before levitating again. Eragon figured that the—whatever it was—was landing, drifting on the wind currents.

As it landed, a tiny yelp left Eragon's throat—his legs were searing in pain.

"The boy hasss awakened," hissed the creature behind him. The way it said it made Eragon flinch, so shocked that he opened his eyes. In front of him was a hazy outline of the back of a creature's neck. He blinked, recognising it as the dragon-lookalike, its beak the only thing distinguishing it from a legitimate dragon. A loud shriek erupted from it, almost deafening Eragon. His ears immediately started ringing. He cried out in unbearable agony, covering his ears with his blistered hands.

"Sssilence, boy," it rasped in his right ear.

Eragon suddenly remembered a story Brom had told him about hooded figures with long beaks and raspy voices.

_Ra'zac! _his mind screamed at him. Brom had warned him to never _ever _get caught by one. He shivered involuntarily. Some part of him held his hopes from falling through completely. He was terrified but determined to find out the whereabouts of his uncle. He was pulled from the back of what he had identified as a Lethrblaka; a full grown Ra'zac.

They were in a small clearing. Two large tents stood in the camp. Eragon noticed another Lethrblaka lying quietly beside a tent, watching him with two unblinking eyes. But what caught Eragon's eye was Garrow, standing with his hands behind his back, another Ra'zac behind him, holding him in place. The colour drained from Eragon's face, his eyes widening. Garrow's eyes had a faraway look in them, shining with confusion. Eragon didn't understand his expression. Garrow barely seemed to acknowledge him.

"He only ordered usss to keep the boy," the Ra'zac behind Garrow said.

It took Eragon a few seconds to understand the Ra'zac's intention. "No!" he suddenly shrieked, struggling to free himself from the Ra'zac holding him. The creature's arms tightened around his torso; his attempts were hopeless. Tears filled his vision, and his whole body ached so badly that he briefly wished the Ra'zac had just killed him. "No, please don't hurt him! Kill me instead!" he sobbed. He didn't have time to shut his eyes as the Ra'zac grabbed his uncle's head, twisting his neck sharply. There was a sickening crack, and Garrow crumbled to the ground, instantly dead.

"No!" Eragon screamed so loudly that his voice broke. He burst into tears, grabbing at thin air. Everything was a blur of colour. He forgot about his burning thighs and hands, forgot about his throbbing migraine, forgot about everything but the dreadful sorrow he felt. He was so disturbed that he couldn't breathe properly. He gasped for breath, mindlessly shrieking insults into the air.

The Ra'zac tied Eragon to a tree by the wrists with a rough rope. He was in too much pain to protest. They dragged Garrow off, the two Lethrblaka following, Eragon begging them to stop. He knew what they were doing. Brom had told him that the Ra'zac and Lethrblaka fed on humans. Eragon sobbed loudly for hours, clawing at the dirt in front of him, sitting through hours of guilt. He tried to untie the rope, but it was too strong, and his hands stung terribly. The Ra'zac came back when it was really dark, scurrying into their tents while leaving Eragon outside. The two Lethrblaka lay near Eragon, an eye cracked open each as they slept.

Eragon sat in complete silence, his knees drawn to his chest while his hands rested on the dirt. He tried to avoid the Lethrblaka, staring numbly at the ground. Occasionally during the freezing night, he broke into silent sobs, wishing that he had never existed. Saphira crossed his mind once in the night. He tried to probe for her presence, but completely backed away when he felt unfamiliar minds.

_I can feel others too, _he realised. He rubbed his face on his right knee, wiping the tears from his cheeks. _If I hadn't have found Saphira… he would be here right now. He would be home… safe. _

His vision immediately blurred with tears again, and he took a shaky breath, trying not to panic. Saphira didn't occupy his thoughts again. He was so cold. Goosebumps covered his exposed skin. He felt drained, both mentally and physically. His pants were stained with blood, and one of his shirt sleeves was torn, revealing a small section of his arm. It was not a pretty sight. Blisters covered the small section, weeping blood. A dark blood stain covered the wound. He knew that it was going to hurt when he tried to take his pants off; they were stuck to his thighs with dry blood. The cold wind made his injuries sting even more. He moaned quietly and continuously, taking breaths in between. His stomach rumbled hungrily, but he knew that he wouldn't be able to eat for a long time.

The worst feeling of them all was guilt. He felt like he was drowning in it. He couldn't believe that Garrow was dead. He felt like it was fault. _He_ was the reason the Ra'zac had found him in the first place.

_They must serve the Empire... Galbatorix must have sent them! _Eragon's eyes widened. _They're taking me to Galbatorix! _Terror filled his chest. He couldn't understand how his world had been turned completely upside down in a mere day.

_Garrow and Marian stood on the porch, opening their arms as Eragon and Roran ran towards them, the seven and nine year-old both beaming brightly. Eragon squealed in joy as Garrow lifted him high into the air, spinning him around in circles. Garrow smiled, his eyes shining with happiness. Eragon heard Roran and Marian laughing beside him._

"_Dad?" Eragon asked hesitantly._

_Garrow's expression softened. "Yes, son?" _

"_Can we go swimming in the Spine?" Eragon's expression was so innocent that Garrow couldn't help but laugh. _

"_No," he said, his face becoming stern. "Never go in the Spine without me, alright?"_

_Eragon pouted in disappointment, but nodded anyway. "Okay, dad."_

"_Good boy," Garrow said, ruffling Eragon's hair as he placed him back on the porch._

_Marian caught his eye, smiling softly at him, before Roran grabbed her hand, pulling her inside the house. Garrow chuckled as Eragon raced in after them._

Eragon woke with a jolt. The back of his head rested against the tree trunk, and his sore legs were huddled close to his chest. His hands were covered in dry blood, lying limply on the dirt beside his torso. The sun sent beautiful rays of light across the sky, but Eragon couldn't have cared less. He felt even worse than he had the day before—the situation had dawned on him. As thoughts of his dream filled his head, tears filled his eyes.

_He's dead, you idiot, and it's your fault, _he thought to himself bitterly, glaring at the Lethrblaka, whose eyes were open, watching him hungrily.

"Why don't you just eat me?" Eragon spat, feeling sick. They just stared at him, seemingly amused. Eragon burst into tears again, dragging his fingers through the dirt in frustration.

"W-why?" he sobbed, glaring at them through blurred vision. One of the tent flaps abruptly opened, and a Ra'zac appeared. Eragon paused, shrinking back in fear.

"Will you eat, boy?" it asked, it's face concealed behind the hood of the robe.

Eragon just shook his head, stunned silent. The Ra'zac hissed something to itself before walking forward to untie the rope around Eragon's wrists. Eragon shivered in fear, eyeing it suspiciously. It stepped back from him when the rope was untied.

"Do not try to essscape, or we will punisssh you," it warned before wandering off. The Lethrblaka lay there, watching Eragon as he slowly pushed himself off the ground, his whole body quivering. He disappeared into the trees, knowing the Ra'zac meant what they said.

When he wandered back, the Ra'zac tied him—with the rope—to one of the Lethrblaka. Eragon couldn't restrain the tears that slipped down his cheeks. His thighs were bleeding badly from when he had forced his pants off. One of the Ra'zac mounted the Lethrblaka he was on, while the other mounted the remaining Lethrblaka.

* * *

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	10. Connections

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**Chapter Nine: Connections**

Brom tried again to communicate with Saphira in the few days after they had gone searching for Eragon. Brom willed Burka to hurry across the damp forest ground. He figured that stopping to attempt communication would only waste time. Instead, he talked to her. The tall trees created a barrier over them—not that the sun was shining to provide warmth. Every time Saphira heard her rider's name, her uneasiness flowed through their metal link, causing Brom to worry as well. Their closeness was evident. Saphira walked parallel to the frightened horse, keeping a reasonable distance in between them.

_Can you hear Eragon?_ Brom questioned with deliberate emphasis, in effort to make her understand.

_Eragon… No. _Saphira seemed distracted. She abruptly paused, lifting her snout high into the air to take a whiff. Brom halted Burka, watching the sapphire dragon with interest.

_What? _he demanded.

Saphira's eyes seemed to light up. _Eragon! I can smell Eragon! _She darted forwards, running awkwardly towards a clearing ahead. Brom dug his heels into Burka's belly, racing after the excited dragon. When he finally caught up to Saphira, she was already sniffing the clearing intently. The dead embers of a fire rested in the centre of the space. Brom dismounted the raven mare, approaching the dead fire to examine it.

_They must have been here, _Brom concluded. He turned to see Saphira wander over to a tree with a strong trunk. Her eyes were wild with shock. She could smell the Ra'zac. She started clawing at a certain spot in front of the tree, whimpering quietly. Brom hurried to her, laying a gentle and on her neck. The dirt was covered in dry blood.

_Eragon… here… _The thought was laced with deep sadness. _Eragon_… _was here._

Brom nodded curtly, his panic rising. He followed Saphira as she rushed towards a cluster of trees. More blood covered the ground. A small tatter of black material lay scrunched in the grass. Saphira growled menacingly, clawing at the grass, ripping chunks of dirt from the ground. Brom bent over and picked up the dark material. He recognised it to be part of a pair of pants… _Eragon's _pants.

_If only he could write, _Brom thought in frustration. _He could have written a message in the dirt… I wonder if he knows where they're taking him… if he knows what they are. _Saphira nudged her snout into Brom's hand, studying the material. Her feelings were jumbled, but were somewhere between depressed, furious, and worried.

And then she shocked Brom by saying a full sentence. _We must follow the scent of the Ra'zac._

Brom blinked rapidly. _Yes, _he managed.

. . .

Roran sat next to Katrina in an alley in Carvahall, letting emotions rack his body. He had no idea where his father or Eragon were, and it made him feel lost.

_Brom said he would find Eragon… Is Garrow with Eragon?_

Katrina held his hand softly, watching him anxiously. Watching him cry was painful—he barely ever cried. Roran had gone straight to Horst's house when he arrived at Carvahall late at night. He told him and his wife, Elain, what had happened, Albriech and Baldor—their two sons—listening in surprise. They didn't know about Saphira nor Brom—Roran didn't tell them. He wasn't sure why, but he felt it was for the best. Horst had insisted he stay, despite the fact that he had told them Brom had allowed him to stay at his place. They put Burka in their stable, alongside their cattle.

He felt like he had let his family down. He should have stayed with them. _He_ had left Eragon on his _own _with a wild creature. He did not only feel as though he had let Eragon down, but his father too. Garrow always told him to stay with Eragon, _no matter what_.

"Roran," Katrina murmured gently, ducking under his arm to lay her head on his chest. Roran wound his arms around her, trying to control his ragged breathing.

"I-I should h-have been t-there," he stuttered dejectedly.

Katrina cupped his cheeks. She stared at him, her eyes firm. "Stop it, Roran. You didn't know what was going to happen." Roran closed his eyes, letting her comfort him reluctantly. He didn't believe what she said, but he let her speak nevertheless. Her voice soothed him, her soft fingers stroking the tears from his eyes.

"I'm scared," he admitted quietly.

"I know," Katrina replied hopelessly, sighing. "I know."

. . .

In Galbatorix's throne room stood Murtagh, his dark eyes lifeless, his body stiff. Behind him was his dragon, Thorn, his bright crimson scales shining. Yet another chore was to be placed upon Murtagh's shoulders. The dark king seemed to be pleased about something he was unaware of. Not that Murtagh was particularly surprised. He only hoped that he wouldn't be asked to murder someone. Galbatorix sat motionlessly on his throne, eyeing him sternly.

"I have some…" Galbatorix paused, his eyebrows rising. "Cheer up, boy; I have exciting news for you."

The sixteen year-old almost cringed. _No, no, no._

"You will be meeting your brother soon." Galbatorix held his hands up. "Let me explain."

Murtagh couldn't control his hammering heart. How could he have a brother? The thought was so foreign, and he immediately wanted to reject it. _Brother? _He suddenly felt sick. _He must be lying! _Thorn willed him to stay silent.

"Aye, it's about time I told you what has been going on, because you would not know. While you were training with Thorn, many things occurred. A dragon egg was stolen. One of the elves who stole it managed to transport it away before a Shade under my orders could get it. I then sent the Ra'zac to capture the new rider. They have told me about him. Eragon is his name. Selena fled to Carvahall when she was pregnant with him, where she gave birth and left him with relatives."

_Something is off, _Thorn warned.

Murtagh stood rooted in his spot, before questioning suspiciously, "Why would she have done that?"

Galbatorix shrugged. "Who knows? It was a foolish decision."

Murtagh frowned. "My mother wasn't foolish," he muttered protectively.

Grinning, Galbatorix said, "Why, you don't know that. Anyhow, I must ask of you a favour."

_Like I have a choice, _Murtagh thought bitterly. "What do you want?"

"I suggest you respect your elders. You are bounded to me by oaths. You will only regret defying me." Galbatorix waited until Murtagh hung his head, before continuing with slight amusement. "I would like you to teach him what you have so far learned, to take him as your student, for you are his elder."

Murtagh wanted to refuse, but he knew he couldn't, and his curiosity got to him. _Maybe we could… _He forced himself to eliminate the thought for the moment—he did not want to risk the king hearing.

_You have no choice. You must, _Thorn told him gently.

"I'll do what I can." Murtagh stared coldly at the ground.

A cold chuckle echoed through the massive room. "I think you'll enjoy the company of another rider. Together, you shall exceed all but me in strength."

. . .

Eragon sat in the grass, tied to a tree like usual. It was late, the moon and stars giving him something to stare at, thus he could forget both his physical and psychological pain. He couldn't remember how long it had been. He didn't care. What difference would it make? The days of endless traversing tired him, and gave his thighs no chance to heal. As soon as he survived a night of agony and his thighs stopped bleeding, he was forced onto a Lethrblaka, and the whole process repeated. He hadn't eaten for nearly a week. Every time the Ra'zac demanded it, Eragon only shook his head stubbornly. At first, it had been absolutely horrible, but the hunger had developed into an annoying reminder in the back his mind, and his stomach just felt numb.

He missed home, the villagers, and even Brom crossed his mind. He still had no idea where Roran was, but he prayed that he had left before the Ra'zac arrived—perhaps to meet Katrina in town, where he was safe. He missed Saphira desperately. Everything was a reminder of her. When they stopped to get a drink from a small stream, the water reminded him of her. When he looked to the sky, he was reminded of memories watching her learn how to fly. When he cried himself to sleep, he was taken back to the small tree in the Spine, where she hummed him to sleep after a hard day on the farm. Even the Lethrblaka reminded him of Saphira, because of their similar appearance to dragons.

He felt like they were getting very close to reaching Urû'baen. The thought of meeting the king terrified him. _What does he want from me? Saphira's not even with me. _He stared at his right hand, where the white oval glimmered. _Saphira. _A lump formed in his throat, and he restrained the urge to cry.

Every day, the Ra'zac filled Eragon's head with stories. They told him that the Empire was good, and it was people like the Varden who wanted to cause destruction. Some days, Eragon just ignored them, and others he listened. He didn't know what to believe. At first he argued, insisting that they were wrong, but the way they talked of Galbatorix—as if he was some kind of saviour—had started to twist Eragon's visions on everything.

. . .

Orik, Amira and Arya had arrived at Tronjheim a few hours ago. Their trip back to Tronjheim had been fast and tiring. Ajihad had been pleased to see Arya, and praised Amira's bravery for persisting on rescuing her. Arya and Amira recounted what had happened, and their worries concerning the Shade to Ajihad, before he had demanded they rest. After Arya had properly bathed, and had bid her sister goodnight, she was taken to a room by a kind dwarf.

Staring at the ceiling of her room, Arya reflected on the day's events. She felt uneasy. She knew something was very wrong. _The egg must have hatched for someone, _she thought anxiously. She closed her eyes, forcing her stiff muscles to relax. And that was the night she dreamt of him.

_Arya wandered through the forest, smiling as she breathed in the fresh morning air. Her fingers caressed the leaves of trees and small plants as she drifted past. She walked until she saw a small clearing through two large trees. Approaching it, her heart leapt. Something felt wrong. She was shocked when she saw a sobbing boy sitting before a tree, curled up, his knees drawn to his chest. As she hid behind a tree, she studied him. He had longish brown hair, hints of red shining through it as the sun hit it. His face was hidden behind his knees. He wore ragged, bloody clothes—black pants and a long-sleeved deep blue shirt. There were marks in the ground beside him, as if he had been clawing away at the dirt for hours on end. _

_She didn't understand why she felt so drawn to him. Without thinking, Arya took a step forwards. He didn't seem to notice. That's when two dragon-lookalikes came into view. They were guarding him. Two large tents stood under some trees that created an overhang over them. The delayed realisation hit her, but she kept walking. As she got closer to him, she noticed how skinny he was. His skin was a pale complexion. Still, no one acknowledged her. She sat beside him, eyeing the rope tied to his blood-stained wrists. The side of his face was visible. Tightly shut eyes rested over pronounced cheekbones. His nose curved down to his dry lips—that looked extremely painful. He was beautiful. He eventually lifted his head. His attention suddenly shot towards her. Two stunning eyes stared at her, one a hazel brown, the other a glowing sapphire. _

Arya woke with a start, jumping up from her bed like a spooked horse. All she could think about was the way he had looked at her, his right sapphire eye_—_the way it had glowed. _The same colour as the egg! _Arya couldn't draw any other reasonable analogies. He was the new dragon rider, something inside of her was certain of it. It still made no sense that she had dreamed of him.

. . .

Eragon's eyes snapped open. He was staring to his left, his head raised. Confusion flooded his mind. He remembered a beautiful woman sitting beside him, watching him with her emerald eyes. He felt his chest tighten. Why did he miss her?

* * *

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	11. An Unexpected Turn of Events

**A/N: Thanks for reading everyone! Enjoy!**

**Chapter Ten: An Unexpected Turn of Events**

A knock on the door woke Amira. She stirred, glancing to the door. Another knock sounded in the room. Forcing her tried limbs to move, Amira rushed to answer it. Arya was standing there, obviously shaken. Amira ushered her sister inside, uttering a spell to light the lamp on her nightstand. She sat on her bed, patting the spot next to her. Arya settled beside her without comment.

"I had a strange dream," she said quietly. Amira frowned. It had to be something deeply concerning Arya if she had come to see her. "I must tell you because… You won't believe it."

Amira had never seen her sister so worried. "I trust you, Arya. Of course I'll believe you." Amira took her sister's hand, squeezing it softly. They regarded each other, and Arya began retelling her dream. Amira listened with growing confusion. Arya became hesitant when she started describing the boy. It seemed to bother her.

"Do you think he's the new Rider?" Amira asked quietly, just to confirm.

Arya nodded curtly. "The dragon somehow has linked us. I think he saw me."

Amira looked thoughtful, her blue eyes trained on the floorboards. "So… perhaps he dreamed of you as well… Do you know where he was?"

"No, I didn't recognise the place. The Ra'zac are taking him to Urû'baen, no doubt. I must find him."

"No, wait," Amira said in dismay. "You can't just run off! By the time you get close to him, they will have already arrived at Urû'baen!"

"Be quiet," Arya whispered as she held her hand up. "Galbatorix will bind the boy to him by oaths. I have to try."

"Be practical," Amira argued. "It was just a dream. How would you know if he's real?"

"You don't understand. I know he is." Arya stood up. "I am going nevertheless."

"Wait," Amira begged desperately. Arya paused, turning around. "Please, Arya. Let's talk about this with Ajihad first."

Arya hesitated. "Alright then," she finally said.

. . .

Damon tackled his brother to the dirt ground, growling playfully. Jameson rolled away, jumped to his feet, and ran as fast as he could. He reeled to a stop before colliding with Roran—who was walking innocently out of Horst's house. Elain wandered out right after him to see Damon jump onto Jameson, who collided with Roran. There was a dull thud as they all hit the ground.

"What do you boys think you're doing?" Elain crossed her arms over her chest, her expression affectionate.

Damon looked up guiltily, smiling at her. "Nothing, Elain," he said sweetly. His deep blue eyes were covered by his wavy brown hair, giving him the appearance of a young child.

"Oh?" Elain's eyebrows rose.

Jameson groaned. "Get off," he grunted.

"You okay under there, Roran?" Elain asked anxiosuouly.

There was a muffled moan from under the huddle of limbs. Damon shot to his feet, helping Jameson and Roran up.

"Sorry, Roran," Jameson apologised, turning to glare at Damon. "Idiot."

Damon chuckled, ruffling Jameson's blonde hair. "Love you too, bro," he said playfully. Roran hung his head, trying to control his emotions. The way the brothers played reminded him of Eragon. Elain came to stand behind Roran. Damon and Jameson gave her questioning looks.

"Where's Eragon?" Damon asked, oblivious to the situation.

"Probably dead," Roran snapped harshly.

The brothers paled. "What?" Jameson whispered in disbelief, his blue eyes wide with trepidation.

Elain rubbed Roran's back comfortingly. "Roran has to make an announcement to the village. Could you please help gather everyone before my house?"

Jameson and Damon blinked like stunned fish before hurrying away, their playfulness gone. Half an hour later, the villagers of Carvahall were gathered before Horst's house, watching Roran nervously. Some of them already knew about Eragon and Garrow, but the majority still had no idea what was going on. Sloan and Katrina stood near the back. Katrina gave him a soft look when her father wasn't looking. With a slight nod of his head, Roran began talking, aware of how quiet the crowd was. Horst and his family stood on their porch behind Roran, their expression grave. They were still unaware of Saphira and Brom since Roran hadn't informed them. He knew his story didn't make sense in all aspects, but it would have to do.

"My father and Eragon are missing." Gasps of shock filled the tense air. Even Sloan looked worried—which was just about the rarest emotion ever presented by the grumpy Butcher. Roran forced himself to continue, despite the lump in his throat. "I arrived back at my farm to find an empty house…" Roran paused before adding, "All my animals were gone as well, except for one of my horses." No one said anything. They stared at him, some gaping, some almost crying, and some with strong postures, trying to appear unaffected. Eragon was a significant part of their lives. He talked to just about everyone, and helped out whenever he could. Elain was like a mother to him—in fact, she was like a mother to all the children and teenagers of the village.

Roran continued. "I fear that we'll have to start travelling soon. Something big is happening—I don't know what."

"Where to?" a man called out.

Roran shrugged. "I don't know, maybe to the Varden—"

"No way!" Sloan shouted, Katrina grabbing his arm. He shrugged her off, pushing through the crowd to Roran. He grabbed the fifteen year-old by the collar.

"Stop it!" Katrina screamed. Horst, Baldor and Albriech shoved the crazed man off Roran, restraining him as he cursed.

"Do you want to kill us? We're safe here and you want to lead us into danger! You're just as stupid as your cousin!"

Roran almost punched him in the face, but Elain grabbed the back of his shirt. "Shut up, you blasted idiot! He's smarter than you!"

Sloan laughed. "I bet that stupid stone has something to do with this! Who found that, Roran?" he taunted, his eyes glinting.

"No wonder everyone hates you," Roran growled, his brown eyes cold.

"Stop, both of you," Elain ordered angrily, glaring at Sloan. "Go home."

Sloan muttered something to himself as Katrina ran off, ashamed of her father's behaviour. All the villagers stayed silent, watching Sloan with annoyance. He shrugged Horst and his two sons off, storming through the crowd, who stepped away from him immediately.

Roran shrugged Elain off, rushing off the porch. He left everyone behind—in the opposite direction of Horst and Katrina, cursing under his breath and scowling at the ground. He felt someone catch up to him, and looked back to see Damon.

"What?" he demanded grumpily, his pace quickening.

Damon moved his brown hair away from his eyes, placing a hand on his shoulder. He pulled Roran around the curve of the road so that they were out of the villagers' sight. "Roran," he said softly, his deep blue eyes oddly serious. "I… I'm really sorry."

"Whatever," Roran muttered, turning away.

Damon grabbed his shoulder. "Wait," he pleaded. Roran hesitated. "… You don't know they're dead. Where's Brom?"

"I… don't know." Roran blinked in surprise, his posture stiffening. He turned again.

Damon frowned, spinning him around. "Where is he?" he said firmly.

Roran sighed. "Can I trust you?" he asked in resignation.

Damon looked confused. "… I'm your friend… Of course you can."

"Very well, I'll tell you… but not right here." Roran led the way, Damon following in bewilderment.

When they arrived to Brom's door and Roran put his hand on the knob, Damon demanded, "What are you doing?"

"Brom gave me permission," Roran explained, disappearing into the house. Damon stepped in hesitantly after him, casting glances around the house. It was messy, full of scrolls and other various things.

"Wow, this place is…"

"Messy?" Roran offered, and in the same instant, tripped over something.

Damon chuckled. "What makes you say that?" he asked jokingly, before becoming serious.

Roran found a lighter and lit it, before telling Damon to sit. Roran settled into Brom's rocking chair, while Damon sat on his couch. Roran had never seen Damon so serious. The eighteen year-old had always been the crazy, dare-devil type.

Roran looked at his hands as he spoke. "You know what a Dragon Rider is, don't you?"

Damon blinked. "Y-yes… Wait… Are you going to tell me Eragon is a Dragon Rider?" He laughed, sounding queasy. "You're joking."

Roran sighed. "No… I'm not." Damon's expression faltered. "I went to talk to Brom about Saphira—Eragon's dragon. Garrow was home with him—I told him to tell Eragon where I had gone."

"Where was Eragon?" Damon enquired interestingly.

"… The Spine," Roran said guiltily.

Damon just stared at him blankly. "Eragon was in the Spine…. Continue."

Roran wanted to cry, but ignored the urge. "Brom got really upset when I told him of Eragon's whereabouts. He came back with me to the farm… They were gone. There were marks in the ground—Brom said they were dragon claws."

Damon paled, unsure if he was hearing Roran right. "So… where did Brom go?"

Roran laughed angrily. "He went _searching _for them. He didn't even let me go with him! How is he supposed to find Eragon and Garrow if he had no clues as to where they went?"

"… Brom's always been… strange," Damon commented warily. "No one really knows where he came from… He knows so much about Galbatorix and Dragon Riders… You've heard his stories."

"I know… He's a good man though. He always looked after us as much as he could." Roran sighed deeply, burying his face into his hands.

Damon hesitated. "Roran… you're telling the truth, right?"

Roran looked up, offended. "Of course I am! You're lucky I told you at all!"

"Okay—I just… it's difficult to comprehend, that's all," Damon replied protectively.

. . .

The large city of Urû'baen was a spec in the distance. Eragon knew that this would be their last stop before continuing on. As they landed at nightfall, Eragon suddenly felt something caress the outer wall of his mind. His mind barriers rose and he held his hand in the air, while the Ra'zac gave him suspicious looks.

"What, boy?" it rasped, grasping his wrist.

Eragon shivered. "N-nothing," he said quietly, feeling the presence try to worm its way through his weak spots.

"Presssence in hisss mind," the other Ra'zac observed as it dismounted the Lethrblaka. A deafening roar filled the forest, and a blue dragon fell from the sky, grabbing one of the Ra'zac by the head and flinging the cloaked creature at least twenty metres away. The remaining Ra'zac removed a bow and arrow from its cloak, hastily mounting the Lethrblaka Eragon was on. As the dragon-lookalike leapt into the air, the Ra'zac wound its arm around Eragon's neck, putting him in an awkward position, and held the bow with both hands, aiming at the dragon. Ignoring his searing legs, Eragon opened his mind.

_Saphira?_

_Eragon! _Another crazed roar filled his ears. It felt so good to have her familiar presence in his mind. He had missed her so much. He dared to take a peek, gasping when he saw Saphira, her muscles rippling as she flew. But he didn't have time to appreciate her beauty properly, because on her back was a figure.

It was Brom.

Eragon couldn't believe it. Questions flooded his mind. And that's when he realised that Saphira's presence was gone again. The first arrow whizzed towards Saphira, and she dodged it easily. Eragon tried to distract the Ra'zac, struggling to free himself, but the creature was too strong, and in his weak state, Eragon doubted he could do much to help. That's when the unbearable shriek of the second Lethrblaka filled the air. Brom turned his head to see a Lethrblaka behind them. He aimed carefully, and propelled his spear at it with all his force. Still, the creature managed to avoid it. Brom resolved to using his own bow and arrow. Again and again the creature missed it, until the last arrow struck it in the eye. It shrieked so loudly that everyone—even the Ra'zac and Saphira—were temporarily deafened.

Eragon watched Saphira and Brom anxiously, wincing at his ringing ears. They didn't seem to hear the loud shriek, because their expressions remained determined. That's when Brom yelled something to Saphira, and she stopped dodging the arrows flying towards her.

"Saphira!" Eragon screamed. "Move!" He struggled with ropes on his wrists, weeping quietly as he tried to slide his blistered hands out of them.

She wasn't listening. When Eragon expected the arrow to hit her, it stopped, whizzing of course. Eragon gasped.

_How did she… do that?_

Eragon—with one last yank—freed his bloody wrists from the rope, and immediately knocked the bow and arrow from the Ra'zac's hands. In return, something hard whacked him in the head. Eragon moaned—black spots filling his vision—but refused to close his eyes. The Ra'zac held him in a headlock as the Lethrblaka dodged Brom's arrows. The Lethrblaka behind Saphira had caught back up to her. Its massive beak closed in on her long tail. Saphira swung around unexpectedly, swiping her claws across it face, blinding its other eye. Blood spurted everywhere, coating Saphira and Brom. It shrieked one last time—the loudest one yet—and spiralled out of control, rapidly descending towards the forest below.

"Saph—" The Ra'zac covered Eragon's mouth, muffling his warning.

"Sssilence!" it ordered harshly.

The remaining Lethrblaka—that Eragon and the last Ra'zac were on—threw itself at Saphira, nipping her shoulder. Saphira cried out in surprise, her shoulder wounded. Brom took the opportunity to use his last spear in a hopeless attempt to stop it. Eragon watched in shock as his friend drove the spear into the Lethrblaka's eye. He felt sick watching blood squirt everywhere. He looked down, wanting to puke even though his stomach had been empty for nearly two weeks. Valleys and lakes littered the land. It was beautiful, but at that moment Eragon saw it to be frightening, unwelcoming.

Another roar sounded in the distance. It was louder, lower. Eragon watched as Brom's eyes widened. The Lethrblaka paused in the air.

_Saphira, listen! _Eragon pleaded desperately.

She lowered her barriers to allow his thoughts in, and then closed them again, locking their minds together. _Another dragon is approaching! _she explained. They tried to ignore their aching hearts, tried to focus on the task at hand.

Eragon couldn't believe it. _Another dragon? Are you sure?_

Eragon's question was confirmed as he saw Brom's eyes widen. He tried to look behind him, but his head was secured to the Ra'zac's chest.

_Whatever happens, Saphira, I love you, _Eragon thought, tears filling his eyes.

Saphira's attention shot towards him briefly, her sapphire eyes almost glowing with emotion. _They will not take you from me!_

_I love you, _Eragon repeated desperately, and then the same menacing roar filled the air once again.

… _I love you too, little one, _Saphira thought, before Eragon was grabbed harshly and thrown. As he sailed through the air, he saw everything upside down. He couldn't hear anything but the ringing of his ears. Time seemed to freeze as he acknowledged his situation.

Below him was a bird's eye view of a beautiful ruby red dragon. Its Rider was staring at him, his brown eyes wide, holding his hands out as if he was going to catch him. Saphira was at his left, at least ten metres away, rushing at him like an eagle after its prey. He caught Brom's eye briefly, the man grimacing, mouthing something. Eragon was aware that he was completely silent—his mouth closed, just staring at everyone. He saw the Rider on the red dragon pull something out from the dragon's saddle bag, yelling something.

Saphira suddenly froze, her muscles refusing to obey her mind's command. Yet, she still hung suspended in the air. The red dragon and Rider were rushing to meet Eragon, when the dragon suddenly jerked backwards, roaring defiantly. Abruptly, Eragon froze as well. It took him a while to realise that they were having a verbal battle with magic. Both of their mouths were moving, but only a high ringing sound abused Eragon's ears.

_Brom can use magic?_

Eragon shouted something at the top of his lungs—he didn't know what, the word simply came to him. Everything went black, the last thing Eragon seeing being the strange Rider, his arms open—the strange object held in one hand.

* * *

**Thanks again! **


	12. Confusion

**A/N: Enjoy!**

**Chapter Eleven: Confusion**

Pain shot through Eragon, but he didn't have the energy to scream. Every muscle, vein, organ seemed to throb in excruciation. He was sick of feeling like the situation was out of his grasp. He felt like a spec in a whirlwind of sand, the wind throwing him in all directions mercilessly. He first became aware of a pressure on his mind. It wasn't pushing through his barriers—rather waiting outside them patiently. He strengthened his barriers as much as he could. How cold it was. He yearned to sit before a fire, to curl up into a ball beside Roran and listen to the storytellers.

_Brom. _

His face flashed through Eragon's mind. The terror in his eyes as he seemed to realise his attempts at rescue were futile, as Eragon fell towards the mysterious crimson dragon and his Rider. A tendril of fear shot down Eragon's spine. That's when he became cognisant to the gentle hum of voices. He couldn't make sense of the words; they were too muffled. He tried to move but was stopped by restraints. His wrists and ankles were bounded by chains. Eragon almost screamed.

_Not again! No!_

His eyes wouldn't open. It was unbearable. All Eragon wanted was to see. He _needed _to. He hated the feeling. It reminded him of nightmares, where he would be half asleep but unable to open his eyes. The gentle voices became louder and louder, until Eragon was just able discern the meaning of the words.

"He will make a fine rider, Murtagh. You will be invincible against the Varden."

_The Varden? _Eragon couldn't believe it. _Murtagh… _The name felt familiar, yet Eragon was sure he had met no Murtagh in his life.

"What about his dragon?" an irritated voice asked—probably Murtagh. The voice suggested he was a young man.

"Don't worry about that. I have a new dragon for him."

Eragon wouldn't stand for it anymore. He cried out in frustration, thrashing against his chains.

"Eragon, it's alright. You're safe now," the deeper voice said, sounding genuinely concerned. So much power filled the tone. Eragon shivered involuntarily.

The mysterious weight on Eragon's eyes dissipated, and he immediately opened them. He paled, tears filling his eyes. Two men stood over him, one a lot older than the other. Eragon recognised the Rider of the red dragon immediately on his left, absent-mindedly drawing the analogy that he was Murtagh. His eyes were the same colour as Eragon's, albeit they shone with coldness. His wavy hair was a deep brown, much like mud on a winter's morning. He reminded Eragon of Damon, one of the villagers back home. On his right stood who he could only guess was the strongest man in the whole of Alagaësia; Galbatorix. A long black cloak settled upon his shoulders. His eyes seemed to read Eragon like an open book.

"W-why?" Eragon's voice trembled. Galbatorix smiled. What frightened Eragon was the fact that he actually looked _kind._

"_The king meansss well. It's the Varden dessstroying the peace." _Queasiness filled Eragon's stomach. Garrow's voice sounded in his head. _"Never trust anyone who serves the Empire. They'll fill your head with nonsense, boy, until you forget what's right and what's wrong."_

The past few weeks had been traumatising for Eragon and he briefly wondered if Garrow could have been—not lying—but believed the lie himself. Was it even a lie? Eragon wasn't certain anymore.

"Do not fear. I've been expecting you to think like that," Galbatorix said calmly, his voice reverberating around the room.

Terror filled Eragon. The king had easily squirmed through his mind barriers. There was no escape now. He was weighed down to the point where he barely had the energy to think properly. Eragon stared at Murtagh, his eyes wide, pleading. A flash of distress flashed through Murtagh's eyes, and he shook his head gently. A tiny whimper left Eragon's mouth as his eyes rolled back into his head.

_Eragon, listen. You do not understand my intentions. I, for years have been trying to make peace. People like you—not that you are quite old enough to decide your opinion—by believing I am blatantly cruel, ruin the peace I have sought to create. I need your help. They left you. Garrow told the Ra'zac where you were. Roran left to save himself. _

"They killed Garrow!" Eragon shrieked, unable to move under the force of the king's powerful presence.

_No, it was your imagination. Garrow is with Roran at Carvahall. They're having quite a splendid time without you. _Eragon so badly wanted to deny Galbatorix's words, but they were so persuasive. How could he be lying? How else could he know so much?

Eragon grimaced. _How do you know that? _he demanded weakly.

_I have found a way to do so. It's one of the very wonders of magic. You see, when you're with me, I can teach you the ways of magic with your brother, Murtagh. _Eragon stopped breathing for a moment. _Let me explain, _Galbatorix thought. _Your parents are Morzan and Selena. I see Brom has been telling the villagers foul stories. We did not do those things. I suppose Selena went mad when she was pregnant with you, because she fled to Carvahall. You would have been better off here. _

"No," Eragon whimpered helplessly, tears slipping down his cheeks. "No, no, no."

"We'll look after you, but you must swear me an oath."

"No! I won't do it!" Eragon cried. "Never! I'll never!"

Galbatorix's presence was overpowering Eragon's mind, and he knew it. "Murtagh, hold your brother's hand."

Murtagh's chest rose and fell too quickly. He shook his head, trying to push the guilt from his mind.

"Now," Galbatorix demanded firmly, his eyes darkening. Murtagh reached hesitantly for Eragon's pale hand. He grasped it, squeezing it tightly. It was shaking. "You can release him when he swears his oaths," the king said, turning to look at Eragon. "Your brother is with you, Eragon. He'll make sure you are safe at all times, and you will fight together for the peace of Alagaësia." Eragon refused to open his eyes. "I am doing this for your own good. You will see one day, I promise."

Murtagh felt odd holding Eragon's hand. Could this boy actually be his brother? He knew Galbatorix was possibly lying, but he didn't care. He would help. He would hold Eragon's hand as he cried. He would train Eragon. Together, they would become stronger than all, and Galbatorix would fall.

. . .

Rays of light warmed Murtagh's face. Sighing deeply, he opened his eyes, resigning to whatever the day's events would consist of. He didn't want to train Eragon to be a monster, but what choice did he have? He hadn't slept at all that night. Eragon's pained cries from across the hall kept him awake. He had listened in sympathy as Eragon cried, as he screamed, as he yelled pointlessly into the air—claiming he wasn't Murtagh's brother, listened with strained ears as he started mumbling about someone called Roran, and then Garrow and Marian.

It hit Murtagh like a ton of bricks. He knew how it felt. Thorn listened to him as he tried to explain it.

_It must suck for him. I know how it felt, we both do. I can't let him suffer, because he's probably my brother, and it's not his fault this happened. If Galbatorix teaches us his ways, then we could—"_

_Don't be foolish, _Thorn interrupted. _We cannot match his power. He would never teach you all his tricks. By the time we get to the point where we could actually have a chance, a war will have happened._

_Thanks for the enthusiasm, _Murtagh thought bitterly. He sat up, looking around the large room. Grand furniture stood proudly; bookshelves, desks, chairs, mirrors, everything. Adoring the white walls were paintings of forests and animals. One wouldn't suppose that the room belonged to the same building Galbatorix resided in. Murtagh still hated it. The only thing that kept him sane was Thorn. Thorn was his best friend. He always helped him, even when he was being an irritable grouch.

_I'm only telling the truth, Murtagh. You know I wish the same as you. _

Murtagh sighed. _I know… I just need to get out of here one day. _

_That's all we can hope for, _Thorn thought gently. _I'm sorry._

_Don't be sorry, Thorn, don't be, _Murtagh replied, wishing he could hug his dragon.

. . .

Eragon curled up tighter, wiping away the silent tears crawling down his cheeks. Today was the first day of his life he would serve the Empire. He gulped back the bile in his throat. He felt sick, both physically and physiologically.

_Help me, anyone._

. . .

Arya had felt wrong before she slept. She had agreed to stay in Tronjheim by Ajihad's wishes.

_She stood in a room. It was a very large room, with huge windows and luxurious—even by elf standards—furniture. She didn't have time to appreciate it because a familiar sound filled her ears; the boy's crying. She turned graciously to see him, curled up on a large bed. He wore different clothes now. A violet __tunic adorned with tiny beads—each a stunning black—with black leggings underneath._

"_H-hello?" she murmured softly._

_The boy suddenly jolted in fright, clinging to the bed-head. He gaped at her, his eyes wide. They were the same as before, one hazel eye, one sapphire. "W-who," he stuttered in bewilderment, "are you?" His accent was oddly clear; Arya had never heard anything like it from a human. She blinked in surprise, her step faltering._

"_I am an elf from the Varden," she said quietly. "I understand you must be confused, but I have a theory."_

_The boy just stared._

"_Are you the new Dragon Rider?" Arya asked. _

_He nodded slowly, and seemed to be attempting to speak. "H-how… did you know?"_

"_One of your eyes is sapphire, the same sapphire as the egg I transported."_

_Eragon took a long time to make sense of her words. He frowned, hesitantly rising from the bed, only to trip over his own two feet. Arya held her hands out, unsure of what to do. Eragon pushed himself from the floor, a small blush touching his wet cheeks. He wondered over to a mirror in the room, his eyes widening further. He reached up to touch the spot tight under his right eye._

"_What?" he breathed. He looked in the mirror at her, feeling uncomfortable under Arya's piercing eyes. Arya didn't feel comfortable at all, but felt the need to talk to him. _

"_What's your name?" she asked._

_The boy stared at the desk the mirror rested upon. "Eragon," he said. He turned hesitantly. "A-and yours?" He looked genuinely curious. _

_Arya stayed silent for a while before answering. "… Arya," she said hesitantly. "And your age?"_

"_Thirteen." Eragon smiled uncertainly. "So… we're dreaming about each other right now? Last time I saw… you…"_

_Arya nodded curtly. "I suppose we are, Eragon. Have you sworn oaths?"_

_Eragon paled. "How did you…?"_

"_We know what Galbatorix does to people," Arya replied, the words coming out harsher than she intended._

_Eragon looked down, squeezing his eyes shut, his hair covering his face. "I t-tried my h-hardest to r-res-ist," he stuttered. Arya sighed almost silently. She had been hoping he had not sworn oaths yet. "H-he made me—I c-couldn't—" Eragon burst quiet sobs, burying his face in his hands._

_Arya didn't know what to do. She had always had a soft spot for kids, and he was a kid to her. "Don't cry, Eragon," she said gently. "We need to get you out of here. Crying won't help it."_

_Eragon was shaking all over. "I'm s-sorry," he said, taking a deep breath. "You're right… Arya." Arya didn't know what to say. She waited in silence until he regained control over his emotions. "He's too powerful. I wouldn't be much help to the Varden if you saved me anyway." Eragon paused, almost as if he was straining to hear something. _

Arya abruptly woke, breathing raggedly. She stood and wiped the sweat from her forehead, rushing to the door.

. . .

Eragon's eyes snapped open. He was standing, staring at the spot Arya had been—or had been in his dream. He reached out dejectedly. He missed her presence, even more so than before. He turned to find himself before the mirror. He gasped at his face staring back at him. He sunk to the ground, knowing he was going to have to face Galbatorix.

_Arya… hurry._

. . .

Roran and Damon stood in front of the throng of villagers again. They had discussed their plan with Horst and his family. Sloan and Katrina didn't turn up, but Roran knew that they wouldn't. He would have to tell them personally, an idea that he wasn't comfortable with.

"I'm going to fight with the Varden," Roran announced. "If you come, you come. A war is beginning, and I'm not going to stand back and let Alagaësia perish in front of my very eyes. I'll be leaving soon."

"I'm coming," Damon said, placing a hand on Roran's shoulder.

Jameson held their mother's hand, Beth, in the crowd, kissing her cheek softly before holding his hand up. "And I as well," he called out.

Beth frowned before saying, "I'm not letting my boys go anywhere unless I'm there as well." A small chuckle emanated from the crowd. Other people started raising their hands, some young, some older.

"But it's dangerous!" one of the old farmers called out.

"But it's necessary," Roran replied. "Galbatorix could easily send out a small group of warriors to kill us. If we're with the Varden, we'll have many more allies to aid us."

Some people were nodding while others were frowning. Roran held his hands out. "How about this!" he yelled over the noise. Everyone suddenly paused. "I'll give you all a week to decide, and then I'm going, regardless of who is coming. Is that fair?"

Half an hour later, Roran was fast asleep; too tired to stay awake, even though it was early morning.

* * *

**Thanks for reading! **


	13. Thelduin

**Chapter Twelve: Thelduin**

Brom tendered carefully to Saphira's shoulder. He untied the straps of her leather saddle he had made, sighing deeply. It was quite a large wound. He knew it would take a lot of energy, but he reasoned that Saphira would at least be able to hunt for them both if he healed her. Since the terrible day, the unsuccessful rescue attempt, a dark mood hung in the air. Not Saphira or Brom were willing to talk much. Their conversations were scarce and to the point. Saphira's vocabulary had expanded slightly and she had grown a lot, but she was so unhappy without her Rider. They were travelling to Tronjheim, where they knew they would have to stay with the Varden. Brom wasn't willing to let Eragon grow into a monster, but what choice did he have? There was no chance he would make it past the large barriers protecting Urû'baen.

Brom placed his hand on Saphira's shoulder. "Waíse heill," he murmured. Saphira shifted uneasily as her skin started itching, forming new skin to cover the long gash. When Brom felt his energy decreasing rapidly, he panicked slightly.

_How deep is it? _he wondered incredulously. It suddenly stopped, and Brom let himself crumble to the ground.

_I will hunt. _The thought was dull.

Brom sighed, closing his eyes and leaning into the base of a tree. _I promise. Eragon will be reunited with you as soon as possible._

_The king is twisting his mind by the day. I do not need false reassurance, _Saphira snapped, flapping her right wing testily before crouching low. She took off into the darkening sky.

. . .

Eragon stared at the violet dragon egg, his eyes wide. His fingers twitched every few seconds, and he shifted uneasily, finding that he couldn't move any more than a few centimetres backwards. It must have been Galbatorix's doing. He couldn't escape even if he tried. In Eragon's peripheral vision stood Galbatorix and Murtagh. Thorn lingered behind Murtagh, eyeing the violet egg suspiciously.

. . .

"Arya, he is bound to Galbatorix," Amira said firmly. When Arya didn't reply, Amira added, "The only thing we can do now is help the Varden. There's no doubt _Eragon_ will be sent to fight with the king's army. We have to face him then." They were sitting in the empty dining room of Tronjheim. Barely was it morning. Through the window, the sun could be seen, hidden behind a large white cloud.

Arya nodded belatedly. "I will not kill him," she said.

Amira sighed. "He will be strong. If you won't, I may have to."

"No," Arya said darkly, lifting her eyes from the floorboards.

Amira eyes glinted in suspicion. "Since when have become so… protective of this boy? You do not know him, even if you dreamt of him once or twice. He could be tricking you for all you are aware of."

Arya's neutral façade did not falter. "We shall give him the chance to join the Varden."

"He will kill us!" Amira cried.

"We will give him the chance to join the Varden," Arya repeated, rising from her chair. Amira watched Arya as she walked away.

. . .

The villagers of Carvahall huddled in front of the large fire to keep warm. The majority of them had left with Roran, but a few still stayed behind, saying that Carvahall was their home and they couldn't leave it. Even Katrina had come, to Roran's extreme relief. Sloan had not been able to ignore Katrina when she had pleaded with him. He too, stood somewhere within the group. Roran was nervous, and as the days grew colder and colder, he worried that he might have made a grave mistake. The only thing that drove him forward was the knowledge of the Varden's whereabouts. Brom had once talked of the Varden to him, and had accidently admitted where they were hidden. Not that he needed to concern over Roran disclosing information to anyone.

He didn't know the exact route of course, but somehow, knowing the name _Farthen Dûr _made him feel better. He had seen maps of Alagaësia before—thanks to Brom—and had stolen one from the storyteller's house before they had left on their painstaking journey.

. . .

No one noticed that Damon had wandered off.

Damon never minded the cold. He had an odd resilience to it. He wandered the dark forest, getting lost beneath layers of thoughts. He was less worried than Roran. He couldn't see why there was a need for concern. They were alive. They could survive. What would it matter if they didn't find the Varden immediately?

_Roran has a map. We'll be just fine, _he reasoned.

He suddenly was pulled from his thoughts. A bright light lingered in the distance. Damon strained his eyes, intrigued by it. He walked until he was barely a metre away from it. The camp's fire was barely visible now, but Damon didn't notice. The light floated in the air. It was no larger than his fist, yet colours exploded from it, like flares of lava. An urge to touch it filled him. He reached out slowly, intending to stroke the outer surface. A sudden tornado of bright colours encompassed him. Whispers flooded his hearing. He couldn't understand them. The voices spoke in no language he knew. He was circled again and again. In the mix of colours, Damon could see the outlines of faces, faces of people.

He cried out in pain as the tornado plunged into him. His heart felt like it was being burned but refused to die. Wave after wave, tremors shook him. Every muscle in his body throbbed so harshly that he could barely breathe. His eyes burned as if fire was slowly sweltering them to ash. In the corner of his vision, he could see crimson hair growing at an impossible speed. The voices melded into one, and before Damon lost himself beneath the personalities of the Shade, he cried out someone's name. His world went black.

. . .

Striding behind Murtagh towards the battle area for what felt like the hundredth time, Eragon gulped quietly. Trepidation clawed at him, filling every recess of his mind and switching him to panic-mode. He knew better than to still be bothered by this place, but he couldn't help it. He didn't hate it like he used to, but he didn't like it either. Thelduin, his new dragon lingered in his mind. Galbatorix had told him that the dragon would be named Thelduin when it had hatched for Eragon some four months ago. He said that the dragon's name meant _reign. _

Eragon and Thelduin were bound together. Galbatorix had somehow linked their minds, and Eragon hadn't been allowed to his own thoughts since. Thelduin was an odd dragon. Just as stubborn as his new rider, Thelduin had made no attempts at first to communicate with Eragon, and only answered a question when Eragon had asked directly, but now their relatonship had depeened. Eragon didn't hate him, he was somewhat sympathetic. Thelduin must have been through as much—if not more trauma. Eragon could feel his anger seeping through their mental link. It was strange to experience being the Rider of two dragons—and in particular, that they were of the opposite sex.

What bothered Eragon most was the second gedwëy ignasia shining on his right palm. He had enough common sense to realise that it shouldn't have been possible. he knew it was the king's doing. He was linked with _two _dragons. He was the Rider of _two _dragons. It wasn't natural, and Eragon was scared of losing Saphira. He missed her so much that it physically made him sick. He would even blackout occasionally. Thelduin was always supportive when Eragon talked of Saphira, but sometimes Eragon felt that his new dragon was jealous.

Murtagh came to a stop, and turned around. His eyes were neutral. It was uncomfortable for them both. "Dull you sword," Murtagh ordered, watching Eragon interestedly as he hesitantly unsheathed the sword from his belt. It wasn't a Rider's sword—as Eragon had first thought before Murtagh had explained—but a normal sword embodied with various spells. Apparently, it was almost as strong as a Rider's blade.

"… Gëuloth du knífr," Eragon mumbled...

. . .

Sweat coated Eragon's brow. Determination shone in his eyes. He lashed forwards with his sword, hitting Murtagh in the stomach with a laboured grunt. Murtagh growled as he tumbled to the ground, using the motion to leap back to his feet.

"Too slow," the seventeen year-old commented swiftly as Eragon tried to duck under his flying sword. The air was knocked from Eragon's lungs as the sword knocked him in the side.

_You attack like a fool. Use your brain; you have it for a reason, _the thought rumbled through Eragon's head, causing him to falter. Murtagh used his distraction to his advantage, tripping him over. Eragon gasped for air, groaning. A dim, apologetic tendril of thought flowed through their link.

_I'm trying, Thelduin, _Eragon snapped.

_I know when you are trying, Eragon, and you are not trying right now. _The thought wasn't harsh, but rather chastising. Eragon ignored the comeback boiling in his throat. _I am only trying to help you, _Thelduin added gently. Eragon couldn't help but feel pleased. Their relationship had strengthened dramatically over the last six months.

"Eragon, get up." Eragon blinked, rising slowly into a sitting position. He suddenly felt sick. Groaning softly, he squeezed his eyes shut. He heard Murtagh kneel before him. "What's wrong?" Murtagh's voice was laced with concern. Genuine or not, Eragon appreciated it.

Thelduin's sympathy filled Eragon. Eragon pushed his presence gently away, and said quietly, "Do you ever… miss anyone?"

There was a long silence. "Love is absurd," Murtagh muttered. "No, I never miss anyone. I don't have anyone to miss."

Eragon sunk further to the ground, laying his forehead on the cold grass. The wind gently blew his hair around, causing him to shiver. "Love isn't absurd."

A scornful chuckle filled the air. "What good does it do us but cause us pain? Look at you, Eragon. You're a mess."

Eragon defended himself, breathing deeply in and out as his chest ached. "… It's not my fault I found an egg. I didn't know Saphira would hatch. I didn't even know dragons still existed."

"I'm not talking about Saphira," Murtagh replied, his tone losing its starkness.

Eragon slowly turned his head to the side, lying on his belly. He lifted his eyes to see that there were tears streaming silently down Murtagh's cheeks. The sky was overcast, and a storm was definitely brewing. Frowning, Eragon murmured, "Don't cry, brother…"

Murtagh hung his head, letting his wavy hair create a barrier between them. "We should go." He looked up at the sky, wiping his wet cheeks. "Can you walk?"

Eragon felt a large rain drop splatter on his cheek. He took a deep breath. "I don't know." Murtagh stood, holding his hand out hesitantly. Eragon felt for his sword beside him, sheathing it clumsily, before accepting Murtagh's support.

Thelduin's presence softly wormed its way back into Eragon's thoughts. _Shall I meet you in the castle?_

Eragon leaned his weight on Murtagh, his eyes narrowed to slits, just so he could see where they were heading. _My room, _he replied. Murtagh led Eragon through the familiar hallways of the castle, up a staircase, and towards his room. He opened the door slowly, letting Eragon stumble the rest of his way towards his bed. Eragon turned slowly, using the bed-head for support, his eyes grateful. "Thanks." Murtagh acknowledged his gratitude with a slight nod of his head, before gently shutting the door.

Eragon collapsed onto the bed, sinking into the cold sheets. He heard a gentle thump as Thelduin landed on the massive balcony. The dragon used his snout to push the sliding door open. The howl of the raging wind outside assaulted Eragon's ears before it was closed.

"Thelduin?" Eragon sobbed. He lifted his head, sighing as Thelduin nuzzled his cheek. "My heart hurts."

_Where will you sleep? _the dragon questioned softly.

_Can I sleep with you?_

_Of course, _he replied.

Eragon used the last ounce of energy he had to role onto Thelduin's large head. He held on as Thelduin transported him to his sleeping pallet. It was massive, large enough for two dragons the size of Thorn. When they were settled in, and Thelduin had created a warm cocoon for Eragon with his wing, Eragon let his thoughts and emotions flow freely before sleep overcame him.

. . .

Arya battled against Brom, swinging a blow towards his hip. The loud clash of metal against metal sounded through the training field as Brom deflected the blow. Amira watched as they practiced their fighting techniques, Saphira lying by her side, her head rested on the ground lazily.

"The key is control," muttered Orik, who had just approached them.

Amira smiled kindly as the dwarf settled down beside Saphira. Orik gently patted Saphira's head. The dragon blatantly ignored him. Amira gave Orik a sorrowful glance.

"She is not well," she murmured, staring at Saphira. "She has moments where she stops communicating or cooperating. She needs _him_."

Orik sighed, shaking his head. "Such a strong bond they must have," he commented dismally.

"Are you going to practice?" queried Brom's stern voice. Amira stood gracefully, trying not to smile in amusement at Brom's state. He was covered in sweat, panting loudly, yet still he held his head high. Arya nodded curtly at Brom, readying herself for her sister's attack.

"Ready your weapon," Arya said, glancing at Saphira briefly before nodding.

Orik stood and bowed as Brom approached. Brom waved his hand flamboyantly, chuckling. "Oh, you don't need to do that," he said, his expression becoming concerned as he caught Saphira's eye. She looked lifeless.

_I fear my emotions will get the better of me if I do not see my little one soon, _she thought sharply.

Brom made no expression to give his private conversation away. _Hush, Saphira, you will see him soon._

_No, _Saphira snapped. _You don't know that._

_The Empire is becoming stronger. I feel there will be a bloody war._

A crazed hunger seeped through their link. _And I shall show no mercy to those who have harmed my Eragon._

Brom did not doubt her words.

* * *

**Okay, so, just to be clear, it has been around six months since Eragon was captured. Hope you enjoyed. :)**


	14. Rage

**A/N: I'm so sorry for the late update! I hope you like this chapter! Thanks for reading and reviewing! You are truly awesome!**

**Chapter Thirteen: Rage**

The Shade woke to the sound of voices calling _Damon_. Under him was the wet ground, rich and dark. He stood hurriedly with grace, hearing a voice he dimly recognised.

"Damon!" Beth, Damon's mother, called. "Damon, are you there?"

A dark smile pulled at the corners of his lips. Power throbbed through his body, filling every vein, organ and muscle. The instinct to kill was stronger than ever, almost consuming him. He yearned to smell the sickening aroma of blood, blood shed because of him. He wanted to rip someone apart, to hear the screams of innocents as he burnt everything they had. He would destroy anything or anyone in his path. His confidence was only heightened by the fact of his incredible strength. _No one _could stop him, and neither would they dare to. Damon was somewhere in the Shade, bound to the souls of other unfortunates. He was helpless, unaware, and not himself any longer.

The Shade threw his head back and laughed a menacing, narcissistic laugh. Beth's calling ceased, causing the Shade to sober. "Mother," he feigned in a sweet voice, "it's alright. Do not fear." His keen ears picked up the small gasp from the trees. He crept through the needle-grass, as silent as a mouse, peeking through a gap in the trees. There stood Beth, as white as a ghost, her blue eyes wide. "Boo," whispered the Shade, his crimson eyes glinting in excitement as he leant forwards.

A scream echoed through the forest before suddenly cutting off.

Roran's head shot to the sound. He felt his heart leap in fear and concern. It sounded so much like… Beth. The villagers around him gasped, glancing at one another in dread. Elain looked the most shaken, her hands flying to her mouth, her body stiff.

"Shade!" exclaimed a girl, her blonde hair flying as she burst through the trees. Roran had seen Eragon talking to her at Carvahall a few times, but he had never interacted with her, except for a polite smile as they passed each other. When Roran had asked about her, Eragon just shrugged, saying her name was Cyra.

"Who's next?" called a deep, flattering voice of a man. A crazed laugh exploded through the trees, causing a group of birds to flurry into action, squawking and complaining as they flew into the sky.

Jameson tapped Roran on the shoulder desperately. "We have to go," he warned hurriedly, his voice almost mute.

"I like a challenge!" the voice suddenly called. "Run! Try me, you imbeciles!" Roran raced to Cyra, throwing her over his shoulder with a laboured grunt. Her breath hitched the fast motion forced the air from her lungs. The other men followed suite, lifting anyone who was too shocked to move onto their shoulders or backs. Horst grabbed Elain, while Albriech and Baldor rushed to help the other villagers. Jameson picked up a young boy quickly, who was confused, oblivious to the danger, and ran after Roran, hearing the menacing laugh in the distance. "Oh, I see how it is! An unwise choice on your part, but you couldn't have escaped anyway!" cried the joyful voice.

Not a sound came from Cyra as Roran ran, not until she screamed, "Anne!" Her voice died out, and she sobbed uncontrollably as the sick laugh filled the forest. "We can't escape," she whispered.

"We have to try!" Roran snapped shakily, his mind as well as his legs racing. Everyone—realising that the Shade was witty and wouldn't give up—broke into different paths, their hearts and their determination sinking as they heard the screams of their fellow neighbours and friends as they were captured. Roran and Cyra were alone; he could see no one else running with them. Minutes passed, but Roran felt no exertion. Adrenaline rushed like fire through his veins, clogging his every thought, and causing his body to act on instinct. The yelling became quieter as they flew forwards, abandoning the Shade.

"What's happing?" Roran demanded angrily, his breaths short.

"Shh!" Cyra ordered. After a few more minutes of running, Roran suddenly felt his knees buckle and give way. He tumbled towards the ground, Cyra under him. He felt her hands push into his chest, breaking the fall. He leant on her, unable to reject the support. As his thoughts began to slow, Katrina's face appeared in his mind.

"Ka—" Crya covered his mouth with her hand, her dark eyes troubled.

"We'll find her, I promise," she murmured. "You need to rest first."

"I-I f-forgot." Roran shook his head weakly, succumbing to his angst. He cried into the girl as she patted his back. He cried for the villagers he knew had definitely died. He cried because he was scared he had lost Katrina. "How co-could I?" he wept.

"Quiet now," Cyra whispered. "Don't blame yourself. You panicked. The Shade might not have found them… We were searching for Damon over a large area." Only Katrina's wellbeing concerned Roran. Nothing else was as important, and just as Eragon would have, Roran was determined to find Katrina, no matter what obstacle barred his way.

"I'm going to find her, Cyra," Roran said firmly when his tears ceased.

Cyra didn't seem surprised. She released him, although not completely, allowing him to lean on her partially. "You don't understand how dangerous a Shade is. Even if you found her, the Shade would surely kill you both."

"I can't just _pretend _nothing is wrong!"

Cyra covered his mouth again, annoyed. "You're going to get us killed if you keep yelling," she hissed. Her eyes softened. "Shades have incredible hearing, and they're excellent trackers. We have to keep moving. Now, Roran."

As she tugged at his hand, urging him to move, Roran frowned. "How do you know so much about Shades?" he asked half-heartedly, Katrina occupying his main thoughts.

"Eragon," Cyra stated affectionately, her voice dismal. "He told me about them. I guess he forced answers from Brom." A rueful smile graced her lips. "He was always so curious," she murmured, her eyes distant, before she straightened, her eyes sharp again. "I know you know where Brom is, but for now, we need to move. Come." She helped a shocked Roran limp with her through the forest. The morning sky was overcast and the air was painfully chilly, causing them to shiver and huddle closer to each other sub-consciously. They didn't talk, mostly because Roran was worrying about Katrina. Cyra was careful and tactical, leading Roran in different routes and trying to confuse the Shade, who was unquestionably either searching for other villagers or them.

A problem suddenly occurred to Roran. "I lost the map," he voiced, the words being the only he had said for hours.

Cyra sighed. "We can get it later. We'll be heading back to find… anyone who…" Her voice faded away, and she averted her eyes.

Roran hesitated, ignoring his throbbing legs as he asked, "What about your… family?"

Sarcastic amusement fell across Cyra's features. "I have no family. I lived with Horst for a while at the start, and then—"

"Start?" Roran questioned.

Cyra's eyes widened as she shot him an exasperated look. "You're like Eragon. _Let me finish_." When Roran stayed silent, she continued. "And then I lived with Cassia and Felix, which you probably think are my parents. They were good to me. According to Horst, my real father left when I was born, and then my mother died of a broken heart. I guess Eragon and I can relate a lot in that way—our parents both left us, in one way or another."

Roran was startled by her story. He had never really thought about talking to her. "So… you and Eragon were close?" he queried.

Cyra shrugged. "Not really close. We hadn't talked for ages. I noticed that he went quiet for ages, but before that, when we were around ten or eleven, we usually met in Carvahall… Roran, do you know what happened? Do you know where he could have gone?" She stared at Roran, her eyes pleading.

Roran stopped and said, "It's a really long story. I'll tell you later… We shouldn't go further. We might not find our way back if we go too far."

Cyra tried to argue, but Roran just held his hand up, silencing her with a look. She nodded. "We have to find somewhere to rest. If the Shade wants to find us, he will. Hopefully, he doesn't see the worth in it."

The next half hour consisted of searching for a small clearing in a cluster of trees and bushes, and making a fire with a lot of effort. They sat before it. The soft crackling noises in the background were familiar. Roran didn't want to talk, but he did anyway. He re-told the whole story to Cyra of how Eragon found Saphira and how Brom had gone searching for him, while she listened silently. As soon as he finished, Cyra burst with questions.

"How can he be a Dragon Rider?" Cyra exclaimed. "Why would an egg be lying around in the Spine? Why did you let him keep it?"

Roran drew his knees to his chest, tucking his head into his coat. "I don't know," was all he said. His tone was flat, resigned. The wind blew strongly outside of their little hideout. The fire provided much comfort to Roran, but his mind would not stop racing. Cyra seemed to be in the same place as him. It was only noon. Neither of them were tired. But they were freezing, hungry, and desperately thirsty. Roran cynically wondered if the Shade had slaughtered their cattle as well. He let out a sharp, unamused laugh as he thought about the Shade. _What a mongrel. _

Cyra suddenly said, "Roran?" Her tone made Roran lift his head in curiosity. Cyra appeared to be attempting to recall something. She muttered quietly to herself before her eyes widened. She met Roran's nervously. "Shades don't die unless they're stabbed in the heart… which means…"

"Wait, slow down," Roran ordered, leaning closer to the fire. "What?"

Cyra inhaled deeply. "Hasn't Brom told you stories about them? A Shade is someone who uses souls to do his dirty work. Maybe someone tried to kill that Shade, but didn't stab him in the heart, which meant the souls went searching for another… Damon went wandering last night… Do you see?"

Roran's lips pulled into a snarl. "What? Damon's part of a Shade now?" He cursed loudly. "Why him?"

Cyra looked down at the dirt. "I don't know," she replied grimly. "I might be wrong."

Roran suddenly felt a wave of intense thirst wash over him. It was too much to bear. "I need water," he blurted.

Cyra stood. "I'm almost certain a stream is close by," she said. "An easier way would be to melt ice, though."

Roran didn't want to leave the warm spot. He shivered involuntarily. Cyra sighed, pushing him gently forwards. They were lucky enough to find some melted puddles of ice. Roran knelt beside a puddle, sucking it dry. Once his thirst was quenched, his mind seemed to clear a little. The sun had come out from behind the clouds, the overcast sky a league to Roran's south, but it was still cold. It was obvious that the Shade had not seen the value in killing them.

"Let's go," Roran suggested, briefly disappearing into the small hideout to put out the fire. His resolve was weak, but the possibility of finding Katrina pushed aside his negativity.

. . .

The setting sun threw gentle colours bursting through the sky, creeping through the windows of the castle. Eragon's boots echoed through the long hallway as he strode down it with purpose. He had expected to train with Murtagh for the remainder of the day, but Galbatorix had demanded his presence immediately. Thelduin had departed with Thorn to train earlier in the day, leaving Eragon and Murtagh to practice swordplay, magic, reading and writing. Murtagh's knowledge was limited, but he knew enough to teach Eragon with ease. Eragon had casted various spells, and Galbatorix tested him constantly, endeavouring to strengthen him. Eragon supposed this was one of those days.

It had simply become life. His only duty now was to please the king, and in return, he would be praised. He didn't want praise, he wanted Saphira. He loved Thelduin, but as the days crawled by, his desire to see her grew, overpowering him sometimes. It made Thelduin jealous, which frustrated Eragon because he loved them both. If they ever saw each other, blood would be shed. Eragon was not keen on the idea. He had stopped dreaming of Arya. In fact, he had only dreamt twice of her since he had been captured. No, she too had disappeared from his dark world. He missed her deeply, which puzzled him. He couldn't stop thinking of her. Her beautiful face appeared in his mind at random times, which Thelduin seemed to find rather amusing.

_Is she trying to save me, or am I just hoping so? _

As of late, he had been inclined to think it was the latter. But then occasionally, Eragon's conscience abandoned him, and he felt a searing hate for the Varden. Saphira was a major factor that slowed his ache to ambush the Varden. He didn't know where she was, but still he remembered when they talked of the Empire, the hate they had felt for Galbatorix and his followers. Not just Saphira had this effect on him, but the villagers as well. Were they okay? Eragon was oblivious to that knowledge. At the moment, he felt a calm persona fall over him. The familiar dull walls of the castle—rather than being daunting—comforted him. He had begun to form an unbreakable bond with Murtagh. He was amazed how gentle Murtagh could be, opposed to his usual dark posture. He still hadn't mustered the courage to ask him about his past.

As he turned the corner at the end of the hall, the large double doors of the throne room came into sight. Eragon straightened, taming his wild hair with a few strokes of his right hand. His palms tingled slightly. Eragon nervously wondered if the day's events would differ from the usual. Four men guarded the doors, two on either side, standing tall. On their armour was a crest. It depicted two dragons, one black, one white. They appeared to be flying around one another. The white one was tiny compared to the black one, who Eragon thought was Shruikan.

_Thelduin, _he called nervously. _My palms tingle._

_Do not fear, young one, _Thelduin assured. _All is well. Be wary, but do not be afraid._

When the guards saw him, they immediately opened the doors, allowing Eragon to enter. When he was before Galbatorix, Eragon bowed respectfully, remembering Murtagh's lesson.

"_When you greet anyone of a higher level than yourself, always bow."_

"Good afternoon, Eragon," Galbatorix said, rising from his throne. "Stand tall, young man." Eragon silently complied, lifting his eyes. The king walked past him. "Come," he ordered. Eragon followed mutely, unsure of his feelings. Shruikan opened one large, crystal blue eye, causing Eragon's step to falter. The dragon's eye alone was the size of a large house.

His incredibly strong mind penetrated Eragon's walls effortlessly. Eragon physically cowered. _Calm yourself. The king only wishes to tell you of the past. _As soon as the pressure dissipated, Eragon opened his eyes, finding himself shivering and holding his head.

He saw Galbatorix shoot a chastising look to his dragon. He said, "Shruikan by no means intended to startle you. I apologise."

Eragon shook his head. "I overreacted," he said quietly.

A hint of amusement touched Galbatorix's lips. "I admire your bravery. I don't know how I would have reacted had I been in your shoes." Eragon took the compliment silently, unable to catch if it was a jest or not.

Galbatorix lead him down a long hallway. When they came to the end of it and met a dead end, the king uttered a spell. It took minutes of endless mumbling. Suddenly, the wall slid open. Another long hallway revealed itself. They travelled it, coming to the next door, which Galbatorix uttered another spell that was even longer than the last. After a third door, the wall slid open to reveal what Galbatorix's power rested in. Eragon stared in wonder. It was like a cave, the little diamonds and pieces of gold in the stone walls twinkling like stars in the night sky. What astounded Eragon most was the three dragon eggs perched on marble posts, supported by soft fabrics, each of the colours matching that of the egg resting on it. Eragon was ushered into the cave-like room. The door automatically slid closed behind them. There was a silence as Eragon's eyes scanned over the walls.

"This," Galbatorix announced, "is the most powerful room in Alagaësia. During my travels, I discovered a nest of dragon eggs. Shruikan hatched for me many years ago. I hid the rest of the eggs. Saphira, Thorn and Thelduin were once part of this group."

Eragon couldn't believe it. "Why haven't they hatched yet?"

Galbatorix seemed pleased by his question. "Because they have not chosen their Rider. You see, dragons can stay in their eggs for as long as time. Once they choose their Rider, only then will they hatch."

Eragon's head was swirling with questions. "But… how did two dragons hatch for me? Did you force Thelduin?" Eragon's voice darkened.

Galbatorix shook his head vigorously. "I did no such thing!" he exclaimed.

"Swear it in the ancient language," Eragon challenged hotly.

Galbatorix paused, his eyes becoming cold. "You do not trust me," he stated flatly. "I have saved your life, and you do not trust me."

Eragon snorted. "Hardly," he snapped. "Please, I'd love to hear your endless lies!"

"Why would I try to turn you against me?" Galbatorix demanded. He said the next sentences in the ancient language. Eragon managed to catch his words. _"__I intend no harm on you. I am not lying."_

Eragon resisted. "How is it possible then?"

Galbatorix's features relaxed. "You are special. I have never seen a Rider hold so much power at such a young age. You can already move objects, you can manipulate both water and fire, your voice is clear and strong in both languages, and you are on the brim of becoming a fluent reader and writer. Your power is incredible, and to be honest, if people saw a fourteen year-old boy, they would not suppose him to be dangerous. _That is a priceless advantage, Eragon._ Use it wisely." Eragon averted his eyes. The king continued. "The Varden wants to murder us, Eragon. We will all die if we do not act soon. I have attempted so many times to settle our differences, but to no avail. They want nothing but to swim in an ocean of our people's blood. If there is something I must know, then tell me, for I have no resolve."

Eragon shuddered involuntarily. _Arya. Was she lying? _Doubt filled him. _How could she? _He called Thelduin, and relayed the information he had just learned. The dragon seemed as doubtful as he.

_We do not know this Arya. Should we trust her words? The decision is yours, Eragon, but I would not trust a stranger. _

Eragon stayed silent as Thelduin voiced his concerns. After what seemed like an hour, he lifted his head and told Galbatorix about the elf. When he finished, Galbatorix's eyes were wide with rage. "That is the elf who stole Saphira!" he cried. "She tried to kill your dragon, to break the egg!"

Eragon stiffened. _Arya tried to kill Saphira? _"Why?"

Galbatorix sighed. "Because the Varden despise me. If not for the Ra'zac, Saphira would be dead."

Eragon felt his anger burst from him in one big wave. "I will kill her first!" he snarled.

_Eragon, _Thelduin begged, _calm down!_

"And I shall allow you just that," Galbatorix said darkly. Eragon felt a chuckle escape him. It was not an amused sound. Galbatorix shook his head. "Do you see now?"

Eragon's eyes narrowed. "I see now," he muttered.

* * *

**Longest chapter yet, I think! :D Anyway, thanks for reading!**


	15. The Calm Before the Storm

**Author's note: I am SO sorry! I haven't updated in a while! I hope you enjoy! **

**Chapter Fourteen: The Calm Before the ****Storm**

That night, after months of blackness, she appeared in his dreams again. Though this time, he was with her.

_Eragon woke to the fresh, cold wind blowing gently through the trees. Darkening clouds sieged the blue sky. In the distance, he could hear water splashing against rock. Instead of feeling at ease, suspicion began to claw at his chest. _

_Eragon slowly stood. He was standing in a cluster of trees. When he tilted his head back, he saw a mountain. It soared above all, reaching the clouds and beyond. _

_A snapping twig caught his attention. Eragon swung around to see her. Of course, he knew it was Arya. Long, luscious raven hair flowed down her back, secured by a green band. Two stunning emerald eyes shone over high cheekbones. Her ears pointed at the tip. She wore dark attire that complimented her porcelain skin. He felt lured towards her, lured in a way he did not understand. It wasn't lust, neither was it affection._

_He wanted to hurt her. In a verbal or physical manner, he didn't know. A voice in the back of his mind warned him not to push her too hard for answers. For that was his aim now. He needed to find the exact whereabouts of the Varden. Arya was the key, and Eragon was struggling not to let previous feelings for the elf extinguish his hate._

_He paused, feigning innocence. "Arya," he said quietly, attempting to ignore the ache in his heart. He wanted to miss her, yet he wanted to despise her. She never came for him. How could he forget? _

_Arya's neutral face fell. She frowned. "Eragon," she said, taking a step forwards. There was a silence before Eragon burst._

"_Where were you?" _

"_I knew it was too late," Arya said stiffly. "The Empire has twisted your mind by now, has he not?" _

_Eragon felt his anger flare. He averted his eyes. "No," he argued. "I never listen to him. He beats me every time, but I always let him. You left me to suffer." Eragon looked up, catching her eye. He immediately had to look away again because the ache in his heart strengthened. _

_Arya's voice faltered. "I-I did not ask you to let him harm you."_

_Eragon's eyes shot to her. "I trusted you! I thought you would come!" he yelled, genuine tears streaming down his cheeks. Arya stared in shock. There was a silence. "You never came," he whispered "I'm not worth it." He let his knees buckle, and allowed his emotions to run wild as he fell to his knees. He felt a soft hand rest on his shoulder. Instead of shrugging it off, he curled up and leaned into the woman. He felt her stiffen, but he was too lost in her scent to care. She smelled of crushed pine needles, which Eragon remembered to have loved. He remembered when he used to collect them on Christmas and place them around his tree. She was so warm. It reminded Eragon how much he missed being embraced by a loved one. He wanted Marian, he wanted Roran, he wanted Garrow, he wanted Brom, and his yearn for Saphira on top off all that was slowly killing him inside._

_Eragon lost his resolve. He wound his arms around Arya's neck before she could protest, pulling her into a kneeling position. As he buried his face into her neck, a harsh sob left him. He cried and cried, drenching her shirt. Sometime in the embrace, Arya held him hesitantly. Her posture was defiantly one of discomfort. Eragon was hyperaware of her soft hair clenched in his hands. He wanted to run his fingers through it, but shunned the urge. Never had Eragon felt so confused. On one hand, he wanted to keep holding Arya, but on the other, he wanted to scream at her. His heart lurched. Another feeling he didn't understand filled his chest._

"_Eragon—"_

"_Where are we?" Eragon interrupted shakily. _

_There was a pause, and then Eragon felt Arya's hands gently nudge him away. "I cannot tell you. I am not as foolish as you think, Eragon." _

_Eragon pushed himself off the cold ground, and knowing he had failed miserably, broke into a sprint. He hated his weakness, hated the way he cried whenever things got too much._

"_Wait!" Arya called. Eragon didn't listen. He let his pain drive him forwards and glanced at every detail in the forest and sky as he approached the mountain. He needed to remember all that he could so that he could find this place with Thelduin later._

_He felt an arm seize his waist. He struggled against Arya. "Just leave me alone!" Eragon screamed at the top his lungs. His voice echoed through the forest. Suddenly, everything seemed to stop. Not a sound could be heard but them. Eragon felt Arya's heart hammering against his back. _

"_You have fallen," Arya murmured. Eragon's eyes widened as her free hand soothed his hair back. "The war has begun."_

Eragon woke abruptly. His skin tingled as if he had actually touched her. Mentally, he had—however that was possible. He pushed all his emotions away, and scrambled to his closet to dress. Not a minute after changing, Eragon was banging his fists on Murtagh's door.

Murtagh opened the door slowly, his expression grumpy. "Go back to sleep, it's too early," he mumbled, pushing the door to a close. Eragon pressed against it, letting himself in.

"It's important," he persisted. When Murtagh was sitting down on his bed, Eragon began to tell his dream. He left out all the unnecessary parts of it, like embracing Arya, and his emotional breakdown.

"So… you think you could find it with Thelduin?" Murtagh asked unsurely.

Eragon nodded. "I don't see why not. I'll give him my memories and we'll go."

"It's not that simple," Murtagh argued. "You need to be ready. It's winter! Do you want to freeze to death?"

"Thelduin will keep me warm," Eragon answered without hesitation, having already thought about it. "He can hunt for food. We'll be fine."

Murtagh still didn't seem to agree. "If you insist on leaving, I'm coming with you," he said with finality after half a minute of silence.

Eragon nodded, knowing he would appreciate the company of his brother. "Okay, but we'll have to ask Galbatorix. He might not let us both go."

"Okay, let's go then. Have you told Thelduin?"

"I'm sure he'll be fine with it. He's a curious one," Eragon replied tenderly.

Murtagh stifled a laugh. _Says Eragon. _

Eragon blinked. "What?" he queried.

"Oh," Murtagh said with obvious amusement, "it's nothing. Let's go."

. . .

Nasuada stared at herself in the mirror while her maid skilfully plaited her hair.

Her stare was sharp and determined. Today was an important day. A meeting was being held. Orrin, the leader of Surda, would be there, as well as Arya and Amira, Saphira and Brom. Arya and Amira had kept Nasuada up to date with the recent happenings, but she had the creeping suspicion that they were not telling her something.

. . .

At the head of the large table sat Ajihad with his assistant, Jörmundur, near him. Arya, Amira and Nasuada sat beside each other on one side while Orrin and his assistant, Cael, sat on the opposite side. Saphira and Brom observed from the corner of the room, having been granted permission from Ajihad.

Ajihad stood. "Thank you for traveling the distance to meet us today. Your efforts are well worth it. This is, of course, my daughter, Nasuada, Arya and Amira, the ambassadors of the elves." He then motioned to Saphira and Brom, which Orrin seemed surprised at. "And this is Saphira and Brom."

Orrin and Cael bowed their heads. "How?" asked Orrin.

"It's a very confusing story, I grant you."

"Hmm, is that so...?" Ajihad settled back into his seat, nodding curtly. Orrin leaned forward, his blue eyes serious. "I thought the Dragon Riders were extinct. Where is the proof of this so called _forthcoming siege_?"

Amira watched Arya as she spoke. "With a group of elves, including Amira and I, we stole a dragon egg which Galbatorix had been hiding." Arya motioned to Saphira. "Saphira is this dragon. We were attacked by a Shade as we took her to Ellesméra." Arya's voice became quieter and emotionless. "The Shade tried to take her, but I used a spell to transport her far away. The Rider, Eragon, I have met in my dreams."

Orrin and Cael glanced at each other sideways. Saphira and Brom did the same, though for different reasons. They believed what she said, but they had not been aware of her dreams before. Arya continued, regardless. "It seems untrue, but I swear I am telling you the truth." She swore it in the ancient language.

"I know it was him. He told me about Saphira, even when I did not know her. I suppose I dreamt of him because I was the only other person to have touched Saphira's egg. I had three dreams. The first was in the forest, when Eragon was captured by the Ra'zac." A low growl filled the room. Brom laid a gentle hand on Saphira's shoulder, urging her to stay silent. Arya blinked neutrally. "The second was in Urû'baen. Eragon had begged me to save him. The third was outside Tronjheim. He feigned innocence and asked of our whereabouts. I refused to tell him. He will find us now. I had no way of erasing the memories of the mountain from his mind. That is why I believe we must take action. He is on the king's side now."

Orrin was shell-shocked. He stared at the table, his eyes calculating. "To be honest, that is very hard to… believe. How long do you think they will take to find us?"

Arya answered with bitter regret. "A fortnight at least is my guess."

Orrin straightened, turning his head to quietly discuss his concerns with Cael. A moment later, Orrin nodded, addressing Ajihad. "I would like to discuss this privately with Ajihad. How old is this _Eragon_?"

"… He was thirteen last time I asked. He may be fourteen now, depending on his birth date," answered Arya. She had not realised how much time had passed. She immediately felt a pang of guilt encompass her.

. . .

Eragon strung a bow swiftly and then released it. The arrow whizzed forwards at break-neck speed, piercing the tree. He smiled softly, pleased at his aim, which had improved dramatically since Murtagh started instructing him. Galbatorix had ordered Murtagh and himself to stay in Urû'baen, and sent Thelduin and Thorn to search for Farthen Dûr, after Eragon had given Thelduin his memories. The dragons had left early in the morning, leaving Murtagh and Eragon to train for the rest of the day.

Murtagh strode to the tree and attempted to yank the arrow out. It held its place. Murtagh grinned. "_Nearly _as good as me," he joked, his dark eyes amused.

Eragon's eyebrows rose. "Whatever you say," he teased. Opposed to Murtagh and Thorn's strong connection, Eragon and Thelduin were barely able to communicate. When Eragon had asked why, Murtagh explained that that the amount of time Rider and dragon were bonded affected the strength of their mental communication.

Murtagh paused, smirking. "You've grown," he commented. Eragon blinked rapidly in embarrassment.

"Um… that's what people do, isn't it?"

Murtagh shrugged. "You just look a lot older, that's all."

Eragon hid his satisfaction at the comment. "You too," he replied.

Murtagh chuckled. "Time for theory," he announced.

Eragon groaned, pouting. "That's not fair! We've barely done any sword fighting!"

"Magic is just as important," Murtagh argued, "and reading is extremely helpful."

"How is reading more important than defending yourself?" Eragon looked doubtful.

Murtagh frowned. "Well, have a think about it. Say you're in a city that isn't under the Empire's control. You can read signs claiming big rewards to the first person who catches the two _mysterious Riders_, and potentially avoid being ambushed."

A shudder ran down Eragon's spine at the thought of being ambushed. "… But no one knows about us except for the Varden… I don't think they even know about you."

"Not yet," replied Murtagh solemnly.

_Not yet. _Eragon winced.

Murtagh sighed. "Don't be scared. You're stronger than you think." He paused, walking up to Eragon. He pointed at him, his expression stern. "But _never _feel overconfident. _That _will be your downfall."

Eragon nodded silently, his eyes wide. Deep regret lay in Murtagh's eyes. Murtagh quickly averted them. There was a moment of painful silence. "Come on," he ordered, turning and walking back towards the castle. Eragon glanced behind his shoulder in paranoia. When he saw nothing but the swaying green grass, an overcast sky, and the other side of the castle, he rushed to catch up to his brother.

In the massive room that Galbatorix had set Murtagh to teach Eragon theory, the fireplace crackled gently. Eragon wanted to bang his head on the table. He was so frustrated. In front of him was a scroll, apparently one Galbatorix wrote himself. Spell after spell Eragon read through. At first, he had been interested, but as his mind began to drift, he started to feel grumpy. Murtagh seemed sick of it as well.

"One more thing, Eragon," Murtagh assured when Eragon complained. He lifted his hand, palm up, and murmured a spell. Eragon only recognised _Brisingr_ in the sentence. He jolted in surprise as a crimson flame burst from Murtagh's palm. Murtagh grinned, his eyes focused solely on the flame. "With practice," he said, "you can not only change the colour of the fire, but alter the heat and strength of the fire. You could potentially burn down a small building without help of a dragon."

"Can I set my sword on fire?" Eragon asked, unexpectedly excited.

Murtagh nodded, pleased by the question. "Of course. You can do many things with fire, you just need to know how to."

"Can we go back outside?" Eragon asked. Murtagh nodded, rising from the wooden chair.

. . .

Saphira dragged her claws down a tree, a plume of smoke leaving her nostrils. Brom sighed. "Calm down, Saphira." They were wandering around the training grounds right outside the mountain. It was late. Arya and Amira had explained what Arya had dreamt of, but left directly after. Arya had been in a reserved mood, more so than usual.

_Eragon. Now, _the dragon replied sharply.

Brom buried his face into his hands. _And you think I have control over the situation? _he demanded.

_I did not say you did, _Saphira snapped. _I am going to find Eragon. Why are we waiting for the king to twist his mind further?_

Brom lifted his head. "No," he said. "They are sieging us soon. Then we can save Eragon."

_Save? _Saphira questioned._ He will not willingly join us._

_We must make him understand. _Brom said nothing more, and instead began to wander through the dark grounds. Saphira eventually followed, feeling a sense of complete loneliness without him, the closest person she was associated with other than Eragon. Sometime through the walk, Saphira felt like a presence was lingering near the barriers of her mind. When she ventured out to find it, the force immediately vanished.

. . .

Thelduin and Thorn flew for the better part of the day. With Eragon's memories to guide them, the dragons were confident they were on the right track. After having hunted, Thorn fell asleep beside Thelduin. Thelduin stared across the vast land, his violet eyes distant. He used his last ounce of energy to send Eragon his love. As he lay his head down on the rich soil, he felt Eragon's love flow through him. He snorted gently before closing his eyes.

. . .

Arya lay in her bed, disturbed and unable to drift into her waking dreams. She wasn't surprised Eragon had tried to deceive her, but it still bothered her. She wondered if she could have saved him before this. She wondered if he hurt deep down. The way he had clung to her in her dream was startling. He seemed so lost, so confused. A deep sigh left the elf, her sombre eyes trained of the pale ceiling.

* * *

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	16. Ambush

**Sorry for the really late update! :( I hope you enjoy this chapter! Thanks for all the lovey reviews! **

**Chapter Fifteen: Ambush**

Cyra led the way through the forest, her eyes sharp. Roran trailed behind her, looking in all directions. He needed to find Katrina, if it was the last thing he did.

Cyra was almost scared to imagine what they would discover of the villagers. She knew Roran would lose the plot if Katrina was dead, and she doubted he would recover from it, so, she was determined, driven by the want to help her—who she still considered—best friend Eragon's cousin.

"Cyra," Roran whispered, his voice shaking.

She buried her face in her hands, refusing to look back at him. "It's not…" _It's not Katrina… no… It can be…_

Roran didn't reply, but took off into the trees. Cyra lifted her head, calling, "Roran!" She stopped, and nearly collapsed in relief when she saw Roran and Katrina buried into each other's arms in the grass. Katrina was crying, covered in mud, which was hardly surprising, but a sense of hope filled Cyra.

_Maybe the Shade left quicker than_ _I thought._

. . .

_Eragon suddenly woke, greeted by an eerily familiar landscape. It was here that he had first dreamed of Arya, here where the Ra'zac killed… Eragon squeezed his eyes shut, extinguishing the thought. Despite his efforts, images and memories began to swell his mind. _

_First, he saw Marian and Garrow, staring softly into each other's eyes, hands clasped together._

_Then, he was with Roran, racing behind him, leaping onto his back, where the dirt ground rushed to meet him._

_Saphira's strong wings stole the scene, muscles and tendons moving graciously, her magnificent blue scales shining in the sun. _

_Then Brom's voice began to murmur in his ears, telling him stories of Alagaësia. _

"_Why didn't you save my father?" Roran whispered in his ear, heartbroken. "Why? Why? He's gone forever, mother too! Why, Eragon?" _

Eragon woke abruptly and rose from his bed as swiftly as a flash of lightning, bags under his eyes. He was more than exhausted, he was sad, angry, frustrated—but most of all, confused.

Yesterday, he had been against the Varden, ready to attack, but a question struck him, one that he was terrified to answer: _Am I ready to kill people? Like what the Ra'zac did to… _Eragon drew his knees to his chest and began to think, long and hard.

_What would Garrow and Marian think of me? What would Roran think of me? What would everyone think of me? I don't… I can't… kill… But the Varden are bad—they're trying to overrun us! Is killing the answer? Galbatorix said so… Murtagh said it's the only way… They have to be right, they have to be. They're all I have…_

A knock on the door spooked Eragon, rousing him from his stupor. "Eragon? Open the door," called Murtagh. Eragon wiped his wet cheeks and scrambled out of bed to answer the door. Murtagh's expression made him anxious, and he mentally cursed when his brother asked, "… Have you been… crying?" He looked worried. His eyes softened at Eragon's speechlessness.

Eragon's eyes fell to the polished floorboards. "No," he snapped grumpily, his voice harsher than he intended.

"… Galbatorix wants us to meet him… now."

Eragon nodded, closing the door and leaning his back against it. _Just do it, idiot. You chose your side, _he told himself with a deep sigh. He washed his face, glancing into the mirror. He gasped in alarm. He looked different. Other than the bags under his eyes, there were other changes to his face. _How did I not notice? _Eragon leaned closer to the mirror, running his fingers down the side of his jaw. His face was even more angled than before. He looked about sixteen, not fourteen.

The most prominent things about his new appearance were his eyes and ears. His ears had a slight point at the end, like an elf's. _Am I turning into one? _His hazel globes had a strange tint to them. They could almost be mistaken for blue eyes. They seemed to glow, and as his cold eyes stared back at him, he began to weep, only for one reason: He felt like he had lost himself, had changed completely, and there was nothing left to cherish about his once innocent being.

After cleaning himself up and dressing, Eragon left his room without a backward glance, deeply disturbed by the new revelation.

"Finally, you're here," Galbatorix greeted with excitement, a warm smile on his face. Eragon glanced at Murtagh to see him bow. Eragon mirrored the movement automatically.

"Master," the Riders said simultaneously.

Galbatorix seemed to be in an exceptionally good mood. His shrunken, dark eyes held a strange glint, a shadow falling over them from the jutting ridge of his brow bone.

"You've been confined to this castle for too long."

Eragon wore an emotionless mask. This didn't mean he wasn't panicking inside. The hair on the back of his neck stood up, and he felt queasy in is stomach. He hadn't been out of the castle in a little more than half a year. He hadn't seen anyone but a few maids around the castle and Galbatorix's _alliances_, as he put it. None of the men seemed to greatly enjoy the king's company in Eragon's opinion. He remembered them with striking vividness.

In his mind flashed the man, Limdur, a slim, tall person with a limp to his side and a large scar tearing down his long cheek. He resembled the structure of an elf, but showed no signs of gracefulness.

Gondien had held Eragon's frightened stare with much amusement, his beefy face creased with lines.

Alyn had stood beside the two with no acknowledgement to Eragon, holding a calm gaze in Galbatorix's direction.

They were an unlikely trio, but stood beside each other like brothers.

A nudge in the side from Murtagh pulled Eragon back to reality, back to Galbatorix's patient expression. Galbatorix's smile was deceiving, and part of Eragon's nerves fell away. "Today, I allow you out of the gates," announced the king.

Murtagh glanced to Eragon. He wasn't sure if he considered the boy his brother. He liked him very much—to his surprise—but they didn't share a strong resemblance, but acted similarly under pressure. Something about Eragon felt like family, but Murtagh was aware of Galbatorix's deceiving ways and had little trust for the king. Galbatorix knew this, which is why he had Murtagh swear another oath: Never to tell Eragon of his distrust. Murtagh had been out of the gates countless times before Eragon had turned up. People knew him. In fact, many young women seemed to adore him. That said, many people were suspicious of the Rider. Murtagh didn't blame them, and would never tell word to Galbatorix of their hate, lest he wished for them to be tortured to death for their fair accusations.

Murtagh knew Galbatorix was talking, and vaguely felt the words bouncing off his mind, unable to make sense of them in the split second before they lost meaning. Not that it mattered; he had heard the words of warning on countless occasions.

"… You must be alert, ready to defend yourselves if need be. Must you disclose information to the people of this city, you shall slaughter them yourselves—you hear me? I will not allow carelessness, not for a second."

Eragon nodded vigorously. "Yes, master," he blurted. He glanced at Murtagh sideways, expecting a reply from him. His eyes were clouded, yet he managed a nod.

"Good." Galbatorix stood, a chuckle leaving his throat. "Shruikan has a terrible sense of humour; you shall do best not to create unnecessary conversation."

It was such an innocent thing to say, coming from, no doubt, the most frightening man in Alagaësia. Eragon couldn't fathom the bright mood, but had no desire to prevent it. He felt an unsure smile touch his lips.

No more than fifteen minutes later, Eragon and Murtagh mounted their strong, raven stallions, and gently trotted to the gate. Eragon had never ridden a horse before he came to the castle, but Murtagh had taught him well. He was just as advanced as any other rider, if not more.

Eragon glanced up, breathing in the cool morning air. The clouds separated slightly, and through the gap shown a blue sky and bright sun. Eragon's solemn mood lifted somewhat, his lips permitting a small smile. Around Murtagh and himself were the large gates of the keep. The guards at the gate seemed to know their purpose and lifted the gate immediately. Eragon looked at them curiously, relieved and nervous at the same time. It was comforting to see different faces, and he wasn't sure why.

Galbatorix had ordered them to be back by sundown, so the Riders were eager to hurry along. Little conversation commenced between the two, because Eragon was too busy looking at the different parts of the castle he had never seen before.

Murtagh smiled reassuringly whenever Eragon happened to glance at him, wishing he found pleasure from such simple things.

There were so many different parts of the fortress, that Eragon had no doubt it would take an immeasurable amount of time and impossible skills to find Galbatorix. _He is indestructible, and he's protected and worshipped. _

Murtagh found it nigh impossible to explain the hate and distrust towards the Empire, in Urû'baen itself, without letting his own aversion to the Empire seep through his words. When Eragon had first arrived in Urû'baen, his talk of the Varden had not swayed Murtagh's distrust for them either. Murtagh felt stuck, in between two bad sides. _How are the Varden any better? They believe they are doing right. Galbatorix, too, believes he's doing right. Who's wrong? Both. That's the problem. There's no escape. Each side is as bad as the other. I was forced into this one, and now I must fright for my freedom. Then I can escape, far away with Thorn, where we'll be free to live the rest of our lives…_

"Murtagh?" Eragon called worriedly, as the final gate opened, the largest of them all.

Murtagh shook his head, smiling. "I'm just tired," he explained. "Don't worry."

Eragon's hazel eyes searched his uncertainly. "Okay," he said quietly, urging his horse forward. Murtagh followed. As soon as Murtagh told the guards they'd be back before sundown and the gate closed again, Eragon halted, his eyes widening. He sat up in the saddle, almost quivering. They were on an extremely tall hill, and Eragon could see—as far as the eye endorsed—houses and structures… people, people getting along with their daily chores. He felt like an alien—the sight should not have felt so foreign.

"… Wow," he whispered. Murtagh just looked at him, gauging his expression.

Eragon couldn't believe his eyes. The city was massive compared to Carvahall.

"Do you want to go straight though the city?" Murtagh asked cautiously.

It took a while for Eragon to gather his senses. He turned to face his brother. "I think so," he replied.

Murtagh seemed oddly calm. "I thought it might do you some good to see people… Just keep to yourself, even if they ask questions… okay?"

"… Yeah," Eragon said. When Murtagh started down the hill, Eragon blurted, "Have you been out before?"

Murtagh thought about lying, but found the notion awfully distasteful. Eragon trusted him. "Yes," he answered truthfully, his eyes calculating, "I have."

Eragon swallowed his next question, biting his lip. He simply nodded.

Murtagh's expression softened. "Come," he said, continuing down the hill, his horse snorting impatiently.

People stared as the Riders passed, some eyes frightened, some steely, and some curious. Eragon, out of manners and habit, smiled, but received very few back. He watched Murtagh's hard expression and began to wonder how he really felt about the city. It took quite a trek to get to the gate of the city, but when they did, Eragon noticed at least fifty guards monitoring the area, dressed in heavy armour.

Yet, as soon as Eragon and Murtagh approached them, the gate began to open, guards forming a semi-circle around the opening to keep others from attempting escape. Eragon felt pity for the few people he had seen. _Some don't agree with the Empire… Do I? Does Murtagh? _

As soon as he saw the green land in the distance, every last thought in his brain vanished. An undeniable feeling of freedom fell over him, and he dug his heals into his horse, yelling, "Race you!"

Murtagh felt himself smile, and his body relax as he urged his horse forward after his brother, allowing himself some pleasure. As they began to gallop across the terrain, Murtagh grinned. Everything was a blur from then. Nothing else mattered, just the wind flowing through his rich curls and the laughs of excitement ahead from Eragon. It was then that Murtagh realised how childish Eragon drove him to be, how childish Eragon could be. _Silly Eragon, _he thought vaguely.

Eragon somehow managed to lose, even though he had been miles ahead of Murtagh.

"Maybe next time!" Murtagh laughed as he slowed to a stop. Eragon groaned, stopping a metre behind him.

"You barely won," he argued.

Murtagh's eyebrows rose. "Alright," he replied sarcastically.

They took their horses to a nearby stream and sat in the grass. Eragon was quiet for a time, but his curiosity got to him. _Again. _"Hey, Murtagh?"

Murtagh's dark eyes drifted to him, calm again.

Eragon played with a stem in his fingers. "I was wondering…" He heard Murtagh sigh quietly, then quickly blurted, "I told you about my past, and… it doesn't make sense… Please."

Murtagh closed his eyes for a moment, then he began to murmur something. Eragon's ears would have captured the speech, had an arrow not pierced the tree he was leaning against. Murtagh was the first to react, picking up the shield beside him in the grass and leaping to his feet.

Eragon was quick to follow, pulling his blade from his belt. It all happened so quickly, that Eragon had little to no time to even figure out what was going on. He faintly realised at least six men burst from the trees.

Their intention was clear, to say the least.

As quick as a fly avoids a cat, a tall man was onto him, swinging an axe carelessly. Eragon ducked under the blow, aiming for his legs. The man jumped backwards, avoiding his sharp sword. Eragon felt a rush of adrenaline pulse through him as his mind switched to overdrive. Perhaps later, he would mourn for the souls he destroyed, and hate himself with passion, but at the moment, his mind and body fought for survival, and he threw himself at the man fearlessly.

. . .

_Thorn! _called Thelduin, as he spotted a dwarf right at the edge of a waterfall.

Thorn quickly arrived at Thelduin's side, peering curiously at the dwarf.

_We have found them, _announced the dragon in his strong voice.

. . .

Meanwhile, Galbatorix's strongest men, Limdur, Gondien and Alyn closed in on the Shade right outside the castle's walls, not far away from where Eragon and Murtagh had galloped from as they had left the gates.

* * *

**Thanks for reading guys! **


	17. Loss of Innocence

**I appreciate your patience, readers! Thank you!**

**Chapter Sixteen: Loss of Innocence **

Eragon's attempt to dive at his hooded attacker had failed, earning him a hard blow to the side from the wooden end of the man's axe. He fell backwards, gasping for breath. The young man realised in the split second before he collided with the ground that the man would have no doubt brought his axe down towards its target. Trying to recall Murtagh's lessons of fighting was useless then, for Eragon's panic had the better of him.

As he hit the firm ground, he rolled to the right; his lean body escaping the axe he presumed had hit the space he had just occupied. Everything was a blur. He could see only greens and browns, and the hooded figures, moving so fast that his eyes couldn't follow.

_Who are these people? Why do they want to harm us? Do they know who we are? _Eragon's mind raced with questions, but there were no answers.

Eragon heard a loud cry, then a dull thud of a body hitting the ground. "Murtagh!" Eragon yelled in terror, too frightened to imagine what could have just occurred.

He felt a hand grasp the material of his shirt and lift him of the ground. He released a relieved breath when he saw his brother. His face was covered in blood, his hair dishevelled with gore, his wild eyes narrowed. Suddenly, Eragon realised that the dampness on his shirt was blood. Then it hit him: Murtagh had killed people. A shiver ran down Eragon's back, his neck hairs standing. Murtagh didn't have time to look at him, but shoved the confused boy behind him, his stance protective at the last two men approaching.

Eragon peeked through the gap between Murtagh's arm and torso, unconsciously gripping his brother's shirt with a shaking hand. The men's hoods were drawn, revealing their thin faces. He had never experienced so much bloodshed in his life. He trusted Murtagh though. He could see the men, strewn across the clearing, blood pooling around their lifeless bodies. He was surprised at the extent of Murtagh's courage. He had always seen the young man as brave, but to fight this many men alone was a terrifying notion to Eragon. They didn't look like warriors, but resembled undernourished, sick men. This didn't escape Eragon's notice. He doubted it had escaped Murtagh's either.

Murtagh lifted his arm, and Eragon's wide eyes followed the long, sharp sword in his grip.

"Who are you?" spat Murtagh venomously. Eragon's grip on Murtagh's shirt tightened.

The men said nothing, but exchanged a look.

"Fine." Murtagh didn't sound pleased.

A rustle in the bushes from behind caught Eragon's attention. His hand loosened from Murtagh's shirt as he glanced sharply to the spot he had heard the sound. He couldn't see anyone, but he felt someone was there. He took a step backwards, expecting to nudge Murtagh. Instead, he was met with a shove in the back. Eragon stumbled forwards, and just as he fell into the bushes, was grabbed roughly from behind.

Nothing was making sense to Eragon. His curious brain was too busy trying to create some answer for his terrible luck. For once, in a long time, he thought of his old life, hazy memories woven deep into his mind.

_I miss you._

"Snap out of it!" Murtagh hissed in his ear, seeming to somehow know the mood that had fallen over his brother. Something was shoved into Eragon's sweaty palm. He spun around, and whatever weapon Murtagh had handed him met resistance: Flesh._ Human_ flesh. Eragon felt like he couldn't breathe as his eyes snapped open seconds too early and he saw what he had done. His hearing ceased, or perhaps he just imagined it. It didn't matter.

All that could register in his mind was the wide, clear blue eyes shining with such sorrow, right at him, like a lost soul. In his peripheral vision he could see the blood. All down the poor man's torso. No one could survive such a blow, and this reality played itself out as the man crumbled to the ground, dead. Eragon wouldn't have moved then, not if an enemy tried to sever him in half, for his shock held him still. He felt constricted, like the world was closing in on him. His breaths were short and rough. In that moment, there was nothing Eragon wanted more than to die. To be the man he had just slaughtered.

Eragon's vision blurred and the first few tears slid freely down his left cheek. He squeezed his eyes shut, trying to hold them back. All the fear and sorrow caged up in his heart came gushing out, and he began to sob harshly, not only for the man, but for his family and everyone he had held closely to hid heart in Carvahall. It felt like years ago when he playfully tackled Roran, without a care in the world.

_What do I have to live for anymore? _he wondered. He didn't know if Roran was even alive anymore.

Eragon heard himself scream the words, his voice an octave higher than usual. "All because I had to pick up that stupid egg!" Then Saphira came flooding into his mind and he regretted what he had said. "Saphira," he whispered, heaving as a sudden unbearable pain in his chest arose. "Y-you were the worst of gift of my life, but I love you anyway."

"Eragon," Murtagh said gently.

Eragon felt a hand rest on his shoulder. He shrugged Murtagh's hand off. "Why?" he cried, spinning around. He hit Murtagh in the stomach, but Murtagh didn't even move, staring at him guiltily. Eragon weakly and continuously struck Murtagh's stomach, while he hung his head and cried. His clothes were drenched in blood, only fuelling Eragon's anger. "You killed them," he moaned. "How can you just kill people?" Eragon lifted his eyes to stare up into his brother's. Murtagh could see he was looking for answers, but said nothing. Eragon continued. "They could have had a life, had children!" Garrow's face flashed in Eragon's mind. "You don't know what it's like to lose someone!"

Murtagh's eyes hardened and Eragon winced. "You have every right to be mad," he said slowly, his voice growing harsher, "but if you think I don't know pain, you're wrong."

Eragon's eyes widened but he didn't apologise. "Are you really my brother?" he asked, after a long, intense silence.

"Probably not," Murtagh replied quickly, his voice hard and his eyes averted. "I saved your life; perhaps you should be more grateful."

Eragon's sympathy ceased like a candle being blown out by the wind. "I wish you'd let me die! You always do that, Murtagh! One minute, you act like you care, and the next, you're like this!" Eragon motioned at Murtagh, his hand movements exaggerated. "I don't know if you hate me or…" Eragon looked down.

"Or what?" Murtagh's voice said. The way he said it made Eragon falter. He sounded genuinely upset by Eragon's comment.

Eragon didn't answer, closing his eyes. Not that it helped. He still saw in his mind the dead bodies and blood.

"Eragon," said Murtagh in the same tone. "I consider you a brother… I… I care for you. Why do think I tried so hard to protect you?"

Eragon was taken by surprise, and replied belatedly. "… Because… Galbatorix probably told you to."

There was a silence. "It doesn't mean I didn't want to."

Eragon's mind began to race. He opened his eyes, looking up at Murtagh. Murtagh's eyes were hesitant, for he had just revealed more than he seemed comfortable with.

"Galbatorix set this up, didn't he?" Eragon said. "They… they weren't warriors…" Eragon's voice grew louder. "They were prisoners, weren't they?"

Murtagh placed his hands firmly on Eragon's shoulders, holding him in place. "Eragon," he demanded. "Calm down."

Eragon almost wanted to laugh, and not out of humour. _Calm down. _"Y—"

"I know what you're feeling," Murtagh interrupted, his expression unreadable. "At least you have someone to guide you."

Eragon stared at the ground, feeling suddenly ill. "Too much."

"… What?" Murtagh sounded worried.

"Too much," Eragon repeated drowsily, and collapsed into Murtagh's arms.

When Murtagh was sure Eragon had only fainted, he dragged him across the riverbank, away from the gory scene, and began to wash the blood off his face. They couldn't go back to the city drenched. They would have to wait. Murtagh was almost relieved Eragon was unconscious; he wouldn't have to answer his relentless questions, neither did he feel like it.

. . .

The Shade's screams of fury echoed through the stone walls of the castle. Lying on a long slab of rock, chained to the unbreakable material was the Shade, covered in gore that wasn't his own. Of course, Galbatorix had used magic to strengthen the stone and chains. The Shade's crimson eyes made a stark contrast against his pale skin. They darted in all directions, searching for an escape.

Galbatorix stood above him, calm. "I mean no harm, Shade," he said. "Let me explain myself."

Through beared teeth the Shade growled, "I will not slave for you. You may have abnormal strength, but you won't keep me trapped her for long."'

The threat didn't seem to faze Galbatorix. "Do you remember who I am?"

The Shade's eyes darkened. "Ah, yes. The great king." His tone was mocking.

"Perhaps you have forgotten your purpose in life."

"I am free."

"You have swore oaths to me in the past. So tell me, have you claimed another soul?"

The Shade laughed a rich, wholesome sound. "Aye."

Galbatorix continued, emotionless. "Well then, where have you been? I see you have killed people." He motioned to the blood splattered on the creature's torso as if it was nothing.

"Villagers. The fools. Little escaped. They were going to the Varden. I found a map at their campsite." Even the Shade did not notice until now what side he was on. "_The Varden_," he repeated slowly, disgust in his voice.

"Yes," said the king. "I need not to remind you of their… misdoings." His eyes piqued with interest. "This map, do you still have it?"

The Shade's eyes narrowed. "I will show you if you release me from this death trap." Then he chuckled darkly, for it was hardly a death trap for him.

"You must swear me one last oath." The sentence was said in a matter-of-fact tone. Galbatorix would take no chances, and the Shade knew this. Another soul had entered the Shade, was woven deep into the Shade's personality. If he did not swear fealty to the king, the slight change to his being could break the oath.

"As long as I am allowed out of the castle when I want to."

"You mustn't kill my people, our people," Galbatorix said. "Unless I have a task for you, yes, you will be entitled to roam free."

The next period of time was spent casting the oath. Once the Shade was free from his confinement, he pulled the map from his coat, grinning as he handed it to Galbatorix.

Galbatorix took it slowly, examining the parchment with curiosity. "It seems," he said, "that someone with great knowledge of the land drew this. I must examine this closer." With that, he called his guards and ordered them to escort the Shade to a room. "Stay here, Shade. I am sure war is close."

The Shade's smile grew, revealing a row of white teeth, sharp as daggers.

"Yes, Master."

. . .

Cyra sat in the grass, trying to ignore Roran and Katrina. She was glad Katrina was alright, but Katrina's relentless crying was giving her a terrible headache, and they were far from safe. She needed space to think, but was too anxious to leave them alone.

She heard Roran's gentle voice murmuring condolences. Somewhere deep down, she envied their relationship. She had never had many friends. Only Eragon had bothered to connect with her when they were younger.

_Eragon. Dear Eragon._

She missed him. She was terrified of what had become of him, if he was safe.

_Concentrate, Cyra, _she told herself.

_Basically, we have to find this map Roran's on about. We'll be lucky if it's still there… _Cyra suddenly gasped as her airways were clogged by some invisible force. She shot from the ground, turning to Roran and Katrina.

Roran's arms tightened around Katrina, his eyes wide. "What?" he demanded nervously.

It took a few moments for Cyra to voice her thoughts. "If the Shade found the map, they'll see where the Varden is. Dammit, Roran! Do you think you could have kept it safer?"

"It's hardly his fault," Katrina retorted protectively.

Cyra growled, her brown eyes wild. "That's not the point!" she yelled, then quickly lowered her voice, fearing the Shade may still be around. She sank to the ground, rubbing her face like a tired mother. "We may have just started a war," she murmured helplessly. "A _big _war."

Roran didn't speak, gently covering Katrina's mouth when she tried to. There was nothing to say. They could only hope that the map was hidden. Cyra knew better. She knew it was gone. She didn't know what side the Shade would choose, but she doubted it to be theirs.

. . .

Saphira was slowly losing her wits. She wouldn't communicate unless completely necessary and was always grouchy, roaring whenever someone mentioned Eragon's name. Not that he was mentioned very much. Not even Arya seemed to be able to deal with her emotions over the subject. Amira couldn't understand her connection to the boy. It was so strong, as if he was… Amira didn't know what. Ever since the death of their comrades, Arya hadn't shared her feelings with Amira, not the way she used to, without a worry in the world. But when Fäolin had been alive, Arya had never had much time for her sister. Amira didn't know if they had been in a romantic relationship but she remembered disliking it when she was younger. She remembered what she thought of it;

_Arya and Fäolin, it's all about them. Doesn't Arya care for me?_

But as she grew older, she came to like Fäolin, and got used to his seemingly endless presence around Arya.

Amira was rallying with Arya, who taught her sister fighting techniques. Neither of the elves had seen Brom since yesterday, at dinner. As Amira's protected blade slid lightly across Arya's neck, Saphira's strong presence demanded entrance into her mind.

"Good," said Arya in her calm yet firm voice, unaware of their silent conversation.

_I felt something touch my mind when I was hunting. I don't know who it was. It wasn't Eragon, but someone he knows. _

Amira frowned. _How do you know?_

Arya's emerald eyes hardened. "What's the matter, Amira?" she demanded.

_I… I just feel it, _Saphira answered, retreating from her mind. Amira thought she sounded a little suspicious.

Amira blinked, meeting her sister's gaze. "Someone touched Saphira's mind while she was hunting. Whoever it was knows Eragon."

Arya's eyes flashed with alarm. She straightened, sheathing her sword. The courtyard they were in was hidden from the main practice area by an abundance of trees. "They are looking for us," she said quietly. "Perhaps they have already discovered Farthen Dûr. We must inform Ajihad."

Amira attempted to contact Saphira but was met with resilience. She worried for Saphira's mental state.

She simply nodded, following Arya back the way they had come. No one payed attention to them, used to seeing them training.

They hastily arrived at Ajihad's conference room, demanding a group meeting. Saphira was there already, and exchanged a few thoughts with Arya. Orrin and Cael arrived swiftly, followed by Nasuada and Brom.

Arya did not sit at the table, but stood by Saphira, acting as a voice for the dragon. Brom stood by Saphira. He almost looked excited by the action. Everyone couldn't deny their excitement.

"I was hunting when I felt a presence tainted with Eragon's touch my mind."

The audience seemed unsure how to react. No one dared to ask how Saphira knew, for the dragon had not communicated with them for months.

Arya continued speaking. "They weren't human." Arya's mind began to race. "An animal of some kind—a smart but wild presence. I have never felt a mind like this. I felt a deep connection with their presence. "

Saphira's eyes sparkled with emotion. She thought nothing more. Arya nodded her head to show she was done speaking.

Ajihad was the first to break the silence. "If this presence was searching for us, they have no doubt found us."

Orrin stared down at the table thoughtfully. "We must ready ourselves for battle, and migrate towards Surda. If we mess around with their plan to ambush, they won't be able to detect where we have gone. It will take at least a fortnight for them to arrive, if not more."

Nasuada looked at her father, hesitance in her eyes.

"We must revise a route, and pack as much supplies as possible," said Ajihad.

"Breaking up into groups may help," suggested Cael.

"Perhaps," replied Orrin quietly.

Arya seemed to be in deep conversation with Saphira and Brom. Brom suddenly stepped forward and spoke.

"Your armies, shall they become one?" His question was aimed at Ajihad and Orrin.

Orrin answered. "We are one. We will fight together."

An hour resumed of talking, planning. The trust shown in Saphira seemed to please her. Nasuada seemed hesitant though, as well as Orrin. It was only fair, for it was a small sign. No one would admit the impatience they held towards the unavoidable war. Everyone was ready to fight for their freedom. They had been locked up in Tronjheim for so long. Only the majority of women were hesitant. Some had young children. They didn't want to leave the safe confines of Tronjheim and put their children's lives on the line.

. . .

_Eragon sat against the tree Saphira's nest was. Saphira's head lay on his lap, her dark blue eyes searching his fondly. Eragon breathed in the frost air, refreshing his airways. The forest around him teamed with life, green and luscious. He stared into his dragon's eyes, finding comfort in her presence._

"_I love you," he murmured, stroking her long, diamond-shaped head._

'_My dear Eragon, my love for you will last forever, no matter what happens to us.'_

Eragon woke suddenly, and was immediately greeted by fresh tears. He couldn't tell where he was; his vision was blurred. Gentle wind blew threw his hair, providing a little comfort. He lifted a lazy hand, running it across his face tenderly. He was in physical pain. He felt tired to the point of exhaustion, but what hurt most was the guilt in his mind, causing his heart to throb with such a terrible ache.

He didn't care where he was anymore. He just missed his family. He missed Carvahall. He missed Saphira. He missed Brom. He missed Cyra. He missed all of the friends he didn't realise he had had until now. He even missed Arya. And he felt like he would do anything to hold them again. But then part of him yearned to stay with Murtagh and Thelduin. He couldn't deny his love for them.

_Damn me and my stupid lovey-dovey emotions. _

Eragon had always been soft. He couldn't help but feel sympathy for many people he probably shouldn't have. Once, when Roran teased him about it, Garrow said he was a caring type, just like his mother. Now that Eragon thought about it, the thing he had probably missed out most on in his life was having his biological parents around. Marian and Garrow were wonderful, but it just wasn't the same for Eragon.

He didn't understand many things about Galbatorix, like why he hated the Varden so much. He had questioned Murtagh on the subject many times, but he always avoided answering it.

_Murtagh, _Eragon thought. He couldn't stay angry at him. Murtagh had saved his life, even though Eragon was questioning why he still wanted it. _Maybe he's had it harder than me._

"Eragon?" It was Murtagh. He sounded nervous.

Eragon's tears had ceased a while ago. He forced his eyes open, seeing Murtagh bent over him. The sun was beginning to set. Eragon couldn't remember how long they had been gone from the castle, but it felt like a real long time.

Eragon gazed at Murtagh, sorrow in his eyes. "I miss home." He said the words so simply, but they seemed to cry out for help.

A hint of sarcasm touched Murtagh's sad smile. "I don't." Then he added. "I miss not existing."

Eragon's skittish emotions tumbled out of him, causing him to chuckle. Murtagh joined in. They began to laugh, not out of humour, just out of hopelessness.

Eragon managed to say through his laughter, "The most peaceful thing in my life will be the dying part."

Murtagh through his head back and laughed hysterically. "I h-have to agree with you th-there, buddy!"

It took a long time for the boys to relax. They lay on the grass by the riverbank, watching the sun beginning to set.

It occurred to Eragon that the dragons should be back. He reached out with his mind, searching for Thelduin. He felt his wild presence brush against his after a few minutes of searching. They relished in each other's mind, enjoying their reunion. They didn't voice their love; they shared it through their mental link. Eragon was so delighted to have Thelduin back that he forgot to keep all of his memories to himself.

_Who attacked you? _demanded his dragon angrily. Eragon knew he was only worried. He explained it the best he could, even though he wasn't sure what had occurred himself. Then the dead man's face appeared in his mind, giving Thelduin a shock. When Eragon's mood completely switched from relief to guilt, his dragon comforted him with words, almost mentally embracing him.

_Thelduin… how can you accept that? _Eragon asked.

_I knew this day would come, young one. It's not the path you chose, but war is coming, and you must fight. We must fight… Come back to the castle, we have found the Varden._

Eragon was terrified. He knew they would eventually find the Varden, but not this soon. Part of him wanted to warn Arya. Another part of him despised her. And then there was Saphira and Brom. _Are they with the Varden?_

_Eragon?_

_Yes?_

_I… I think I made mind contact with… Saphira._

Eragon's heart jumped. _What? _He felt his lips pull into a smile, but he instantly frowned at Thelduin's reply.

_Yes… she's with the Varden. She seems very unhappy. _

_Oh. _Eragon didn't want to talk anymore.

Thelduin mentally sighed. _I'm sorry, Eragon._

_Whatever. It's not your fault. _

_Era—_

_We're coming back, _Eragon interrupted, pulling away from Thelduin's mind slightly, just so they had their own space and thoughts without losing connection.

"Let's go," Eragon said, opening his eyes. The sky was darkening rapidly. "We have to find the horses."

Murtagh was looking at him. "You okay?" he asked, securing the band around his head that kept his long hair at bay.

Eragon's answer was short. "Yeah."

Murtagh smiled apologetically. Eragon shrugged and started walking up the riverbank, the way the horses had gone. He was relieved they had run the opposite way from the now dead men.

Murtagh followed in silence behind him.

. . .

Thelduin and Thorn stood before Galbatorix. They waited in silence until the double doors behind them swung open, two very exhausted Riders dragging themselves forwards. Eragon limped over to Thelduin's side, placing a hand on his dragon's violet shoulder. Murtagh did the same to Thorn.

"Rest," Galbatorix said simply from his seat. "I will inform you of my plans tomorrow."

Eragon frowned. "B—"

"I know what happened, Eragon. Thelduin informed me." Eragon was frustrated and confused by Galbatorix's nonchalance. "You acted well, I see."

If Eragon had been more alert, he would have noticed the slight nod Galbatorix gave Murtagh. He also would have seen Murtagh's empty expression, something only he could see through.

Eragon slept a dreamless sleep that night. He was too exhausted to dream anymore.

* * *

**I hope you liked it :) Ery's getting really confused now... **


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